The New Kid On the Block
by MLaw
Summary: Napoleon and Illya are introduced to the newest and only female Section II agent. This is a longer story based on a short fic. posted in honor of Stephanie Powers 70th birthday for the picfic Tuesday challenge on section7mfu on live journal. pre-saga
1. Chapter 1

"Hallo you wankers," "Mark Slate greeted Solo and Kuryakin with his usual enthusiasm. " I'd like to introduce you to my new partner."

"Napoleon Solo, Illya Kuryakin, this is Miss April Dancer, the first female Section II agent in all of U.N.C.L.E."

Napoleon nearly choked on his coffee, trying not to spit it out. Illya came to his aide, slapping him on the back until he was able to breathe.

"You must excuse my partner Miss Dancer, the sight of a lovely woman such as yourself and the thought of you being in harms way as a field operative can be quite disconcerting to a man such as he." Illya spoke calmly, not batting an eye.

April was dressed rather conservatively in a grey mini dress. Yet she watched Solo eye her up and down, with her long auburn hair apparently draw his attention. She'd been warned of his reputation with the ladies and had already heard his name as well as that of Kuryakin mentioned quite a bit at Survival School.

Napoleon flashed a gorgeous smile. "Perhaps I could show you around and give you some advice on the perils of being a Section II agent...say, over dinner and drinks?"

"Really Mr. Solo?" She snapped back with just a tinge of sarcasm in her voice." That's so sweet of you, darling, but I assure you I can take care of myself very well and besides, I have a capable partner in Mark Slate and he has the honor of showing me around."

"You can call me Napoleon by the way," he purred, even though he'd just been shot down.

"So there you are, you ponces." Mark smiled as he took April by the arm, leading her away to be introduced to the staff in communications. "How are you with computers luv?"

"I can hold my own Mark, dear."

They disappeared into the corridor as the pneumatic doors to the commissary opened with their usual silence.

"This has me a little worried, and I'm wondering why Mr. Waverly didn't bring me in on this? I am CEA after all," Napoleon mumbled under his breath.

Illya smiled shyly. "I am sure she was one of his secret pet projects. Miss Dancer is very capable from what I understand. she did very well at Survival School, graduating at the top of her class. She even came close to breaking a few of our records."

"Now how is it you know about her Illya, and I don't?" Napoleon gulped down the last of his coffee, as he stood at their table. " We need to do something about this lack of information sharing partner mine."

Illya shrugged his answer, knowing full well he'd only heard about her from one of his inside sources and had just enough time to look into her personnel file before meeting his partner for lunch.

A woman in the field? Yet he recalled T.H.R.U.S.H and some very capable operatives like Angelique and Serena. Perhaps U.N.C.L.E. needed to catch up after all?

Solo crinkled his nose at his Russian friend as they left the commissary, but in the back of his mind he wondered how capable April Dancer would really be? He mused for a moment on the lovely image in his head of the red head.

Only time would tell...


	2. Chapter 2

"So Mark, the great Napoleon Solo wasn't as bad as you let him on to be," April chided her new partner.

"Trust me luv, he was behaving himself."

"And what were those words I heard you call them...wanker and ponce? I've never heard those before, are they nicknames?"

Mark burst out in a fit of laughter. "No they're not. And I do apologize for using them in a lady's presence. Let's say they're sort of naughty words where I come from. I'll try not to let that happen again, you do understand luv that...I'm not exactly accustomed to a bird...ugh _woman_, being around on the job."

Mark stuttered for a moment, "I mean, not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just that we're used to secretaries and the like from communication section coming and going, but they're not...how do I say this without getting my head bitten off? They're not one of the lads now like you are."

April flashed him the most beautiful smile. "I take that as a compliment Mark dear. Though as a woman I do expect to receive a modicum of respect for that reason, so yes, I would appreciated curbing any 'cussing' in my presence."

"Oy then, I better have a chat with Illya, he's prone to it to some extent, and does it in quite a few languages. April, do you speak Russian?"

"Yes, along with French, German, Italian and Spanish, and a smattering of a few others."

"Well then I definitely better have that chat with our Russian co-worker, although he's very much the quiet type and isn't one for idle chatter. The 'cussing' as you say usually happens when things don't go well on a mission. Unless you're assigned to work with him, you probably won't be exposed to it."

"Illya sounds intriguing, and he is awfully cute. Maybe I'll have my own private talk with him," she giggled.

"Good luck on that girl. He can close up tighter than a clam. Unlike his partner, Illya seems to avoid women, I know he's dated a few of the girls at headquarters, but he seems pretty adamant when it comes to not being around females."

"Really, now that I find interesting." April smiled, intrigued at that comment. "And maybe a bit of a challenge. I bet you he's just shy."

"Dunno luv. Napoleon is another story, as I told you he likes to 'date' and I mean a lot. I think he's bed...dated pretty much every woman in the secretarial pool, and when last I heard he'd moved on to communications. He does have a penchant for airline stewardesses as well."

"Well he's in for a surprise if he tries any of his moves on me. I'm from the midwest and my momma didn't raise me to be a trollop, or a fool."

Mark cringed at that remark, knowing that Solo didn't give up easily when it came to a woman he fancied.

"All right, but just be forewarned, Napoleon doesn't like taking no for an answer." He realized that didn't come out right. "I mean, he's always the gentleman and would never force himself on a woman, that I know for sure, but he's persistent and very charming. All I hear from the girls is how irresistible he is. He is a good guy though, honest and very much the optimist he is. He and Illya are not only partners, they're best mates. Napoleon welcomed Illya with open arms when other in headquarters shied away from him...suspicions of a Soviet and all that rot."

"Mark you sound like you're trying to sell me on Napoleon Solo. Just to set the record straight, I'm forewarned about his romancing ways, thank you." April looked at her watch, "Oh dear, I have a meeting with Mr. Waverly in ten minutes. Ta-ta." She turned, hurrying down the corridor to the elevator, and as the doors opened, Illya Kuryakin was standing there. He held out his hand, holding the door for her.

"Thank you Illya," she smiled at him.

He nodded to her, saying nothing.

"So, _Otkuda vy, v Rossii , chto eto_so where are you from,in Russia that is?_" She asked him.

His face showed no reaction as he turned to her. "That is right, you speak Russian. I am from Kiev, to answer your question. I am not sure if you are aware, but your accent is slightly off, though I must admit it is better than Napoleon's, even though I have attempted to improve his. I have concluded he is a lost cause. You may have potential to improve...I could help you with your Russian, if you wish."

April was taken back. "And how exactly did you know I spoke it? You said and I quote. "That's right you speak Russian."

"I am number two Section II, it is my job to read the dossier's of any new agent," he said blandly.

April was curious now, as not only was Illya being more talkative than Mark had led her to believe, here he was willing to give her language lessons.

"Illya, thank you for the offer of help with your language. That would be wonderful; we could meet at the Russian Tea Room if you like on Saturday, that is if neither of us is on assignment."

"_Nyet, yeshche luchshe, ya vozʹmu tebya na mesto, nazyvayemoye Maloy Rossii . Tam vy uslyshite mnogo dialektov , i ya mogu ukazatʹ na razlichiya dlya vas. _no, better still, I will take you to a place called Little Russia. There you will hear many dialects and I can point out the differences to you. Your Russian sounds like you are reading it from a textbook so you need to become more fluid in your speech and find the right accent for yourself. At the moment, you seem to have the sound of a Muscovite but it is still slightly off. I can remedy that."_

"Wow, you got that...I mean, _Vy poluchili eto tolʹko iz neskolʹkikh slov, kotoryye ya vam govoril_you got all that just from the few words I spoke to you?"_

"_Da._" He actually smiled at her, something she was also told was rare. She'd heard his nickname, 'The Ice Prince,' earned because of his cold, emotionless demeanor, but the man she was standing beside seemed rather charming, and just a bit shy as she suspected.

"Little Russian?Where exactly is that?"

"It is in Brooklyn, Brighton Beach, to be precise. A large community of Russian immigrants live there, and there is a small family-owned restaurant that I frequent when I am feeling homesick for homemade Russian cooking at a reasonable price."

"Illya that sounds wonderful, I accept. Thank you."

The elevator stopped, and April stepped out to the floor, looking left and right, just a little confused as to which way to go. All the corridors in headquarters looked the same.

Illya's hand appeared through the open elevator door, pointing to the right.

"Spacibo," she whispered, suddenly thinking it odd that he knew the way she had to go. Then again, he was a spy and had to be a step ahead at all times. April suddenly wondered what else he knew about her...


	3. Chapter 3

A woman seated at a desk outside of Alexander Waverly's conference room smiled as April approached her.

"Hello Miss Dancer, and welcome. I'm Lisa Rogers, Mr. Waverly's assistant. I'm sorry I wasn't here to greet you when you first arrived, but there was a change over in staff. Mr. Waverly seems to go through assistants rather quickly, so I hope I'll be sticking around for a while.

"Thanks Lisa," April shook hands with the woman. "Glad to meet you."

"I went to Survival School and did well. I thought I wanted Section II but decided it wasn't for me and I opted for this job instead. Mr. Waverly is a cunning old fox and needs someone to keep up with him and I'm just the gal to do it," Lisa grinned, "and I can be his assistant and a sort of bodyguard at the same time, given my training. None of his other assistants went to Survival School, so I think that gives me an edge."

"I'm sure you'll do great,." April returned the smile, thinking she liked Lisa Rogers a lot.

"Good luck to you Miss Dancer."

"Call me April, and good luck to us both in our new careers."

A yellow light came to life on Lisa's desk console. "It's okay April, you can go in now."

The grey door opened silently and before stepping in April took a deep calming breath.

"Ah welcome Miss Dancer," Alexander Waverly greeted her, " It is indeed a pleasure to have you added to our Section II ranks. Be prepared, though, as the sole female among of male agents, you'll no doubt face take some guff... a woman in a man's world and such. Now please my dear be seated."

She smiled, thinking Waverly didn't mince words at all and pulled up a chair opposite the man and sat down, folding her hands in front of herself. She realized that was a rather defensive position, so she moved one of her hands to her lap.

"I was raised with six brothers sir, and will have no difficulty dealing with the male ego, you can trust me on that one."

"Good, then I will expect no complaints from you in that regard." The man cocked his bushy eyebrows, and glanced down to his wristwatch. His attention was drawn to his office door as it opened again and in walked Napoleon Solo.

"Nice of you to join us Mr. Solo, again, must I lecture you on the merits of being prompt?"

"No sir, sorry. I'll try not to let it happen again. " Napoleon answered, as he seated himself at the table, one chair away from April."

"Ahem," Waverly cleared his throat. "Please Mr. Solo, do not make promises that you cannot keep...now to business. April Dancer this is Napoleon Solo number one Section II and CEA of Section II. You will answer directly to him, when not dealing with me."

"Miss Dancer and I have already met sir, Mr. Slate was showing her around headquarters earlier."

Napoleon and April watched as Waverly picked up his pipe, taking a moment to fill it from his humidor and light it. He took a few puffs on it, sending rings of smoke up into the air.

Napoleon glanced at April, giving her a 'you'll get used to it' look.

"Mmm yes."Waverly finally spoke. "Mr. Slate and Miss Dancer have been officially partnered but for the moment Miss Dancer working with you n the field Mr. Solo, where you'll be sharing your vast knowledge and experience with her, showing the tricks of the trade as it were. Mr. Slate, though experienced, does not have the years under his belt as you do. A few brief weeks working with you will help our newest member of U.N.C.L.E. gain her footing."

"Yes I'm sure Mr. Solo will want to show me quite a few of his tricks." April snickered.

"Excuse me Miss Dancer?" Waverly stared at her.

"I mean tricks of the trade sir, suggestions for working in the field."

"Quite." Waverly mumbled.

Napoleon held back his laughter, covering his mouth while clearing his throat.

"Now dismissed you two...and Mr. Solo, please refrain from showing Miss Dancer anything else that is not work related?"

"I will endeavor to follow your instructions sir," Napoleon quipped.

.

The two of them strolled out of the office, walking side by side down the corridor.

"So what exactly did you mean by that 'tricks' remark?" Napoleon asked outright.

""Please, Napoleon dear...you're reputation with the ladies precedes you. I'm not going to be one of your conquests, so don't even think of trying."

"Moi, surely what you've heard have been exaggerations. Now I've been given an order by the Old Man, and intend to carry it out. We can make it an amicable experience, or not. It's your choice." He was feeling just a little miffed at the moment.

April sensed it. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult you. Let's face it, there are some pretty wild stories about you circulating around headquarters."

Napoleon blushed. "They are aren't they ?" He chuckled. "Look, I promise no funny business, Scouts honor." He looked at her with wide puppy dog eyes.

"You know I can see why the girls all fall for you. I have to admit, you're pretty good."

"Just pretty good?"

"Oh all right, very good."

"Thank you, it's nice to have affirmation." He flashed a disarming smile at her. "How about we meet at the 21 Club on Saturday night...strictly a business dinner, I promise."

"Sorry Napoleon darling, but I'm going with Illya to Little Russia."

"Wait, you're going out with my partner?" Napoleon scrunched up his face in disbelief. The Russian beat him to her and he wondered how 'Mr. Personality' had managed that?

"Damn," he muttered.

April glared at him. "No cussing when you're around me if you please." April turned on her heels, leaving Napoleon Solo standing alone in the corridor with his mouth hanging open."

"You win this round, _tovarisch._" he finally smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

Not surprisingly, Illya didn't pick up April for the rendezvous at the restaurant in Brighton Beach. He simply gave her the address and expected her to get there by her own means.

She wasn't insulted, and was rather bemused. He was doing it to let her know it wasn't indeed an actual date, and that seemed to fit his reputation.

April decided to simply enjoy the experience and not wonder if anything would come of it. Making a new friend was really all she hoped to get out of this, and an improvement with her Russian...still, he was awfully cute.

She shook that feeling from her as she stepped from the taxi in front of a small storefront restaurant. It was nondescript and she guessed it was more a family owned eatery.

When she stepped through the door, she saw Illya already seated and he waved to her.

"May I halp you Miss?" A grey haired woman spoke to her.

She presumed the woman spoke Russian and replied to her. "YA vstrechayusʹ s etim dzhentlʹmenom , yestʹ _I am meeting that gentleman there." She pointed to him.

"_O Ilʹya . Da , on odin iz moikh postoyannykh kliyentov. Khm, eto pervyy raz, kogda on vstretildamu zdesʹ." She sighed. "K sozhaleniyu, vy ne russkiy. YA pytalasʹ poznakomitʹ yego s moyey plemyannitsey, no on otkazalsya_Oh Illya. Yes he is one of my regulars. Hmmm, this is first time he has met a lady here. " S_he sighed."Sadly you are not Russian. I tried to introduce him to my niece, but he declined.

"How did you know I wasn't Russian?"

"Your accent my dear is just a little off."

April smiled, wondering if it was that bad. "That's why I'm here, Illya is going to help me with my Russian."

"Da?" The woman looked at her suspiciously.

"Well he is," April protested gently.

She was shown to the table, and somehow was surprised when Illya stood, moving the chair for her to be seated. "At least he has manners," she mused.

"_Zdravstvuyte Aprelya, kak ty_hello April, how are you_?" He asked as he seated himself.

"_Khorosho, spasibo . YA vesʹma rad etomu , ya dolzhen priznatʹ_fine, thank you. I must admit I am rather excited about this."_

"_Khorosho, entuziazm delayet dlya khoroshego uchenika_good, enthusiasm makes for a good learner."_

"Old Russian proverb?" She asked in English.

"No, just common sense. _Teperʹ, govoryat tolʹko na russkom yazyke , pozhaluysta_now, speak Russian only, please?"_

"_Yeda pakhnet zamechatelʹno zdesʹ. U menya byla russkaya kukhnya , no nichto , chto pakhnet eto khorosho_the food smells wonderful in here. I've had Russian cuisine but nothing that smells this good."_

"That is because it a small place, and the food is more like home-made. Would you like to see the menu or would you prefer I order for us?" He said in Russian.

"_Pozhaluysta, vyzakaza,_please, you do the ordering,"_ she smiled at him, now trying to be careful with her pronunciation.

The food kept arriving, dish after dish and April was amazed at Kuryakin's appetite. She sampled everything during which they discussed the food, and Illya corrected her pronunciation and told her why.

After their meal concluded, the vodka and snacks arrived, and while they both nibbled and sipped their drinks Illya had her pay attention to the conversations in the room. It was small enough that the words could be easily heard. And Illya supposed that was why the place was not frequented by any Soviet agents or unsavory types.

"Listen to that woman speaking there," he whispered discreetly, "her's is a Novgorod accent, while her companion is from Moskva. Hear the slight differences in the nuances?"

"Yes I do."

"Russian possesses five vowel phonemes or six; that is, scholars disagree as to whether the five-vowel analysis, taken up by the Moscow school, rests on the complementary distribution of..."

"Wait, wait. let's not get too technical here? I think if you just point out the difference while we're listening, I'll pick it up. I have a very good ear."

"All right, I will avoid the technical and grammar aspects of the language. Perhaps listening is better way," he actually smiled at her.

The rest of the evening proceeded beautifully and by the time they were done, her accent had improved greatly.

"You have done well April, perhaps if you come here from time to time, you will improve even further, though I think you would now be able to pass more for a Muscovite. The owner, Oksana, knows you now and would be more than willing to converse with you, and she is from _Moskva._

Illya paid for their meals, though April protested saying it wasn't a date.

"Please, you are here as my guest." He asked Oksana to call for a taxi and walked out with April when it arrived.

"Sharing a taxi with me?"

"No, I will be staying here for a bit. It does a Russian's soul good sometimes to be around his own kind."

"Illya thank you so much for your help and the wonderful meal. I really do appreciate you taking the time to do this."

He smiled at her once again as he offered his hand to her. "It was my pleasure, and anything to help a fellow agent. Good night April." They shook hands and he closed the taxi door after her. She watched out the window as he stood looking after the taxi before finally walking back into the restaurant.

"_Tak Illuyshenka , vy sobirayetesʹ pozvolitʹ etomu uyti_so Illuyshenka, you are going to let this one get away. She is very pretty, even though she is not Russian,"_ Oksana chided him.

"She is a co-worker and nothing more." He sat down pouring himself another vodka but before drinking it he ate a bit of caviar, sighing to himself. He would be lying to himself if he did not admit he did find April Dancer attractive.

"Tsk tsk. You still need a nice girl to go home to, one who will warm your bed and cook you good meals and maybe someday give you fat healthy babies. Though you must still come here, as it is my personal mission to put some meat on those bones of yours until then. Enh...my niece is still available?"

"Illya chuckled at Okasana's persistence. She was one to never give up and he liked that about her.

His reply was gentle. "As I told you once before, I am, at present, not in the market for a wife."

Illya spent the rest of the evening in idle chatter, and even got involved in a card game of '_Durak_' after the restaurant closed. He finally called it a night, and took a taxi home to is cold apartment.

As he opened his door, reset the alarm and looked around, he realized how it really empty it was empty, devoid of any emotional warmth...perhaps Oksana was right. He needed a woman in his life, eventually, that is if he lived to retire... though he wondered if it was the copious amounts of vodka that had made him feel a bit soft and sentimental.

Illya stripped off his clothing, dressing himself in an old sweatsuit and and crawled between the cold sheets. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow... and soon he was dreaming of a redheaded woman. Her face wasn't clear though...


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning April was called to Mr. Waverly's office and given her first real assignment; she would go with Napoleon to check out a report that T.H.R.U.S.H. was trying its hand in the gambling business in the United States. There were rumors that the feathered ones had taken over one of the smaller casinos in Las Vegas.

It was surmised, Waverly said, that there was more than gambling going on at the casino and he needed Solo and Dancer to find out what it was.

April questioned that it might be better if Illya was on this mission instead of her. Napoleon flashed her a look, but it was too late. He knew better than to question the Old Man's judgement...oh well, she had to learn eventually.

"Now now, my dear. If I thought you incapable of handling such an assignment then you would not have even made it to Section II. Buck up and follow Mr. Solo's lead. I'm sure you will do well enough. Now the two of you are dismissed, as you have some preparations to make for your cover. Mr. Solo will explain that to you."

She was going to say something, but this time Napoleon got her attention and gave her a stern look that made her bite her tongue.

Once outside the office he let her know. "April, Mr. Waverly didn't become number one Section I on his good looks you know. He's one of the founding members of the organization and I'm pretty sure he knows what he's doing. You got off easy today, as it's usually not a wise decision to question him."

"Oh dear, have I messed up already?" She smiled coyly. "Don't worry Napoleon, I'll do my best on our assignment. I was just concerned that a greenhorn such as myself would best serve the mission. I think Mr. Waverly got that."

"Oh he most certainly did. Now, we have to head down to wardrobe to pick up some proper clothing for Vegas. We'll be going as a high stakes gambler and his girlfriend. We're going to carry $100,000 in cash to bankroll any gambling I need to do to get T.H.R.U.S.H.'s attention.

Down in wardrobe, Napoleon eased through the choices in attire like one well versed in finer clothing. Come to think of it, he was wearing a pretty snazzy, and expensive looking suit.

As she gathered a few dresses, he eyed them.

"Those won't do, no Carnaby Street outfits for you my dear. You want expensive, couture..."

He took a black dress from the rack, holding it up for her to see. "Like this," he smiled. "Every beautiful woman should have a little black dress in her closet."

She cocked her head, not sure if he was flirting with her or was serious.

The dresser from wardrobe agreed with him, and that was an older woman's point of view.

"Mr. Solo is right dearest, you need chic not trendy. Nothing neon or bright colors except perhaps red." She held up a chiffon dress, that was maybe knee-length, and April reacted quite nicely to that."

"I see what you mean. Would you mind continuing selecting my clothes Napoleon?"

"I would be delighted," he smiled at her charmingly. He went to the rack that was her size and after sorting through it, he held up a few lovely dresses. These will do nicely I think, he said to the dresser. Now for a few pencil skirts, blouses and some casual clothes, and of course swimwear for the hotel pool."

"Swim wear? Honestly Napoleon I don't think we'll have much time for that."

"Oh, we'll...I mean you'll make time for that. T.H.R.U.S.H has no idea UNCLE has a female operative among its ranks, and you my dear will make a stellar distraction to what ever feathered folk wandering around the place, and that includes the pool. That will make a quite a spectacular début for you don't you think?" He held up a very tiny bright green bikini with yellow polka dots.

April exhaled slowly. "Wow, it most certainly will."

"And don't forget this Miss Dancer," the dresser held out a mink coat."No fashionable girl can be without one, especially if her boyfriend is a rich gambler."

"Oh, yes but of course." April hugged it to her. "Mmmm, a girl could get used to this."

"And please be sure that this comes back to us?"

"Scouts honor," April smiled.

"Hey that's my line," Napoleon whispered to her as he helped her slip on the coat. "You do look gorgeous in it."

"Down boy." April whispered.

"One more thing." The dresser handed Napoleon a black jewelry case.

He opened it finding a gold tie bar, money clip and cufflinks, all diamond studded, as well as a pair of diamond cluster earrings in the shape of a leaf, a diamond pendant and a charm bracelet, all seemingly set in white gold.

"The money clip and cufflinks are the usual explosive kind, as are the charms on the bracelet and the earrings. The tie bar and pendant have homing chips embedded in them and you can synchronize your communicators to them.

"Are the diamonds real?"

"Some are yes, but they're not of extremely high quality, the other stones are simulants."

"Well looks like we're armed and ready Miss Dancer," Napoleon said as they left to pack some more personal items.

.

By one in the afternoon they were winging their way to Las Vegas on board one of UNCLE's private jets. The flight would allow Napoleon some time to get to know UNCLES only female agent a bit better. He seemed to have gotten off on the wrong footing with her and wanted to remedy that, though their time spent picking up their wardrobe went well.

As they settled down to a light lunch of sandwiches and coffee served by the cabin attendant the pilot's voice came over the loudspeaker.

"I suggest you all buckle your seatbelts as we are going to run into a slight bit of turbulence. I am going to take her up in altitude to see if I can skirt above it...and yes Napoleon it is me."

"Is that Illya?" April asked. She could sense a bit of tension in Napoleon's voice when he answered her question.

"Yes it is. Excuse me, I need to have a word with him."

Napoleon entered the cockpit, and the look in his eyes told the copilot to make himself scarce.

"So what's the deal? Waverly didn't send a Section II agent to act as a taxicab driver and I wasn't told you were to be involved with this affair."

"No, I am not a cabbie and I am not on assignment with you and April. I have my own mission to complete. Your regular pilot took ill at the last-minute and rather than wait for another to arrive, I volunteered to fly, seeing as how I was to head to Las Vegas anyway."

"Oh, umm okay. So what's your assignment?"

"Seems there has been large amount of counterfeit money surfacing in many of the casinos, more than usual. I will be working with members of your American F.B.I as well as U.S. treasury agents to find the source...I wonder perhaps if your assignment might be better way than to circulate what you call 'funny money' than to distribute it through a casino?"

"That sounds like a very interesting hypothesis my friend, thanks. That'll give me and April something more specific to look for. Speaking of April...how'd your date go with her?"

"Date? I had no date with April."

"Wait, she told me she was going with you to Little Russia."

"Ah yes. We did go there but it was not for a date. I was merely helping her with her Russian as her accent was a bit off. What better way than to immerse yourself in a language than by surrounding yourself with native speakers. Unlike _someone_ I know, she has an excellent ear and made great improvements in the short time we were together."

"Hmm, together?"

"Napoleon get your mind out of the street, there was nothing untoward..."

"That's 'get your mind out of the gutter' Illya. And you mean to tell me that you were with a gorgeous woman like her and nothing happened?"

"Yes, nothing happened, nor will it. We are co-workers and that is how it will stay." Illya flicked the switch for autopilot, and turned to his partner.

"I hope you are not planning to make any of the Solo moves on her. She is an agent and needs to be given respect...she is not one of your female playthings. April is a professional, just as we are..."

"My, getting a little defensive of her aren't you? Are you sure nothing happened?"

"Yes I am sure, now go away, I need to pilot this thing."

"Illya, it's on auto pilot."

"I know, but I still need to watch the controls. _Vyklyucheniya s vami_ off with you." _Illya dismissed his partner with a wave of his hand.

Solo returned to his seat, finishing his lunch before he finally spoke up.

"April, you and Illya had a date last night, and as your CEA I have to ask, did anything happen between the two of you?"

Her face flushed red. "Napoleon, number one I'm not that kind of girl, nor do I kiss and tell. But since you are my superior I'll tell you just this once...nothing happened, it was not a date. Illya was merely helping me with my Russian."

Solo cocked an eyebrow, thinking in all the times Illya tried to help him with his Russian, he never once took him to Brighton Beach and that made him to continue to wonder just a bit about his partner and April Dancer.

Before the flight landed, Napoleon suggested they change into attire to fit their parts. April disappeared to the back of the plane, and a short while later she returned dressed in a shimmering silver-grey clinging knit number and carrying the mink coat with her.

Napoleon whistled a cat call as she turned in place, modelling the dress he'd chosen for her.

"I bet you do that for all the girls," she laughed softly.

"Not all, and I must say my choice suits you well my dear."

"Okay, time to stop ogling and for you to change darling."

"I wasn't ogling, I was admiring." He went to the rear of the plane as well, carrying a garment bag with him, and when he returned April whistled at him as well. "Well don't you clean up nicely."

"I bet you say that to all the men you meet."

"Only handsome city slickers. That's a gorgeous suit Napoleon, I must say wardrobe has surprisingly expensive clothing for us to use."

"Um, actually this is my suit. It's made by an Italian designer."

"Well it's nice to know I'll be accompanied by a man of good taste."

"Thank you, I aim to please."

April found herself forming a different opinion of Napoleon Solo, though she was sure his reputation with the women was justified, she found him well-mannered, charming and quite handsome. He and Illya seemed as different as night and day, and thought it interesting how the two had managed to become best friends is spite of being so mismatched in many ways.

Napoleon was obviously a natty dresser, while Illya was very basic in his attire. The American was chatty and flirtatious while the Russian chose his words very carefully and as far as flirting was concerned, it seemed nonexistent. They were an odd pair, but they were the best. April considered herself lucky at that moment, having the opportunity to learn from and work with UNCLE's best.

Illya's voice came over the loudspeaker again, alerting them to the fact he was beginning the descent to the airport outside of Las Vegas.

Napoleon watched April as she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"Landings make you nervous?"

"No, just thinking about the mission. I have to be honest, I'm a little on edge about it."

"Hey, you're with me kiddo. You'll do fine." He reached out, taking her hand and giving it an encouraging squeeze just as the jet touched down.


	6. Chapter 6

Illya landed the jet smoothly at McCarron Airport, taxiing it to an easy stop at the terminal.

The building was a rather impressive sight, and had been recently relocated from Las Vegas Boulevard South to Paradise Road. It's design had been inspired by the TWA terminal at JFK, an airport the Russian was very familiar with. Before April and his partner disembarked, he stepped from the cockpit to see them off.

He couldn't help but notice April's attire and uncharacteristically he looked her up and down, trying to hide his smile. She was stunning but

his actions were not lost on Napoleon as he turned to him.

"Good luck with the assignment. I will be nearby so if you are in need of any assistance, do not hesitate..._pozhaluysta._" He reached out, slapping Napoleon on the back with one hand, but what his partner didn't realize, the sneaky Russian had just slipped a paper thin homing disc to American's tie bar. The art of distraction always worked well for Illya.

He knew it wasn't right, but had a bad feeling about not being there to watch his partner's back; not that April couldn't, but still she was not a seasoned agent. He wondered how well Napoleon could work with a woman, especially one he was attracted to.

There was another more dangerous concern that occurred to him, but left unsaid; of the eleven major casino hotels that had opened in the previous decade in Las Vegas ten were believed to have been financed with mob money. That influence made him just a bit nervous for his partner and April. If the mafia were in bed with T.H.R.U.S.H... that could make for a formidable combination. It was for that reason he put the tracker on Napoleon's tie bar, just in case.

April saw what he'd done and smiled as Illya quickly put his finger to his lips, telling her to be silent. She winked at him in reply.

"Good luck with your mission as well _tovarisch_,"Napoleon said as he walked toward the cabin door. "it seems strange parting ways for an assignment like this doesn't it?"

Illya nodded, and turned to April. "Good luck to you as well." He smiled shyly at her.

"Thank you Illya," she replied and followed Napoleon off the plane.

The two agents caught a taxi, taking them to downtown Las Vegas along Freemont Street where most of the casinos were located.

Their destination was the 'The Diamond Jim Club', and there accommodations were booked for them at the hotel.

Napoleon passed a tip to the taxi driver as he stepped out, offering his hand to April."

The bell boy hurried to take their luggage inside and before they walked into the hotel lobby, Solo took a deep breath, placing April's hand on his arm.

"Here we go kiddo."

They made a grand entrance, bedecked and bejeweled in their finery. Napoleon laughed out loud, pretending she'd just said something amusing.

"Hey baby, the sky's the limit for you. Anything you want, you name it."

"Really, Johnny?" she called him by his cover name." I can't wait to do some gambling."

"I'm ready for that." He laughed again, raising a silver briefcase to the front desk.

"Yeah, I have a reservation for two. The name's Dio, Johnny Dio," Napoleon had chosen that name with a purpose as it hinted to the famed mobster Johnny Dioguardi back in New York. It would no doubt make the hotel management stand up and take notice, that and the silver money case.

"And I want this case locked in the hotel safe, and it better stay safe." He warned the clerk. "I have a load of money in there."

An olive-skinned man walked behind the front desk; his ears perking up at that statement, as he eyed Napoleon and his lovely companion. He looked at the hotel register to see the name.

"Ah yes, Mr. Dio, welcome. It's not everyday we get someone to book our penthouse suite. Please let me personally show you to your rooms. I'm Mr. Howard Jay, the manager. " He snapped his fingers for the bell boy to follow with the luggage.

Napoleon scanned the weasel faced man causally, noting a bulge under his shark-skin suit jacket that was just the right size to be a handgun. Sharkskin...he thought that an unusual choice for a hotel manager as he would have expected something more uniform-like, but then again, this was Vegas.

Elevator number two opened to the top floor, and Jay unlocked the white double doors to the sitting room of the suite.

The digs were opulent, as April strolled around, admiring the furnishings done in the French provincial style, all off-white and gold.

"Is there anything you might like to do Miss while you're staying with us? "Jay asked. "We do have personal masseuse services, a sauna, as well as an olympic size indoor swimming pool."

"Hey, nobody's laying a hand on her except me, got it _Howie_?" Napoleon warned. "But as to 'my' needs...I want to meet with the owner to discuss a business deal, _capisce_?

"Sorry sir, I didn't mean anything by it. And yes of course sir, I'll make sure Mr. Oystacher gets your message. He's a pretty busy man though, so I can't make no promises."

"I don't want to hear that _Howie_, now you be a good boy and do as you're told."

"Come on now Johnny," April interrupted, " just tip the man. I'm hungry and want to change for dinner.'

"Okay baby," he smiled, taking out his gold money clip and pulling a twenty dollar bill, he offered it to the man.

"That won't be necessary, thank you. I hope you enjoy your stay at Diamond Jim's." Jay closed the double doors behind him but once outside, he sneered, as he hated being called Howie. He took an instant dislike to Dio, but the dame, on the other hand, she was a real looker. He wouldn't mind a roll in bed with her.

.

"Oystacher, that's a Ukrainian name, "April said unpacking her things, "Maybe Illya would have been better suited to this after all."

"Look, will you get it through your thick red-head that you'll be fine. You don't think I already knew the owner was Ukrainian, as in 'immigrant'. I also know you speak Russian as do I, so we'll have no issues in communicating with him as the two languages are very similar and he no doubt speaks Russian himself. That might make him more at ease...part of the lure."

"Point taken Napoleon...do you think he's Russian mafia?"

"Not sure, but he's been purported to have ties with Meyer Lansky..." Napoleon suddenly changed the subject.

"Wow, will you look at this place, pretty fancy. I'm shocked Mr. Waverly approved it. Accounting usually has him leaning toward the frugal side when it comes to our hotel arrangements when in the field; the frugality of which you'll eventually have to work out , I suppose, with Mark and..."

"What do you mean, this place is far from being frugal?" April suddenly realized there was only one bed when she walked into the room.

"Ooooh no." She wagged her finger at him.

"April it's a king sized bed, trust me I'll be on my best behavior."

She looked around the room, seeing only a loveseat. "Well there's the sofa in the sitting room?"

"Too narrow...hey, you're not going to make me sleep in the bathtub are you?" Napoleon looked at her with puppy dog eyes.

"No, you can sleep on the floor." She smiled at him. "Oh well, buck up as Mr. Waverly said."

Napoleon crinkled his nose, turning his back on her in a huff and unpacking his suitcase. He set about hanging up his suits in the closet beside her couture collection. "I'm going to change, if you'll excuse me," he said curtly, heading towards the bathroom.

By the time he returned April had dressed herself in a deep green sleeveless dress. Like the other dress she'd worn for their entrance, it was tight-fitting and spectacular. She'd pinned her hair up into French twist and anchored it in place with a rhinestone comb she'd brought with her and put on the diamond pieces that wardrobe had given her and had just added the finishing touches to her makeup.

"Wow," was all Solo could say.

"Thank you," she smiled, taking a twirl with the mink coat draped over her shoulder. "Now let's go. I really am just famished. That sandwich on the plane did go very far. I feel like eating a nice big juicy steak."

"Hmmm, have you been talking to my partner again, as you sure sound like him."

"What?"

"Nothing, never mind." He smiled, thinking of Illya and his appetite, and wondered if April had this same 'high metabolism' thing that allowed his partner to eat so much and yet remain so thin.


	7. Chapter 7

The agents took the elevator down to the main dining room, but before the maitre di could ask if they had reservations, Napoleon handed him a twenty-dollar bill.

"Right this way," man smiled.

Again, eyes turned as Johnny Dio entered the dining room, smartly dressed in his white dinner jacket, accompanied by the gorgeous red-head.

They were seated at a table in the center of the room, where all eyes could see them.

"Perfect, this is exactly what I wanted," he leaned over, whispering to her.

"Let the show begin, "she chimed in.

Napoleon ordered an appetizer of Clams Casino, and escargot for the two of them and for the main course filet mignon for April, and for himself a porterhouse, along with the usual accompaniment of salad, and gourmet vegetables dishes.

The waiter appeared at their table with a bottle of champagne, telling them it was on the house, and Napoleon looked up to see Howard giving him a little salute. He acknowledged with a nod of his head and as the waiter poured the champagne, Napoleon raised his glass in salute.

A dessert dish was delivered, made with cherries and liqueur, flambéed and served over vanilla ice cream.

"My goodness, Cherries Jubliee?" April whispered, " I hope this mission isn't going to be a long one, I have a good appetite, but a girl could lose her figure eating like this." She threw back her head in laughter as she suddenly spotted that annoying little man Howard coming their way.

"I hope your meal was satisfactory?" He oozed, "It's on the house by the way, courtesy of Mr. Oystacher. He's waiting for you, Mr. Dio, in his private lounge for cocktails. Will the lady be joining you or is there something else she would prefer to do while you meet with him?

"Yes, she would like to gamble." Napoleon answered." Give her a five thousand dollar line of credit... I'm sure your boss will approve it."

Howard swallowed hard, stuttering his answer. "Yyyes, Mr. Dio, no problem.

Napoleon was pleased with himself, as his cover was working like a charm. The real Johnny Dio was in custody in an U.N.C.L.E. holding cell for safe keeping, and would be released after the mission in Vegas was concluded. Depending upon the parties involved and the outcome, that could work out to be a bad thing for Mr. Dio.

He was notorious for money laundering and other nefarious activities and if Illya was right about the counterfeiting connection, then Dio's reputation would come in all the more handy for the affair, but would hurt Johnny Dio in the end. He'd surely be that target of a hit either by the mob or T.H.R.U.S.H.

Napoleon was escorted to the private lounge, and smiled at the style of decor. It was done up like an old-fashioned speak-easy. The cocktail waitresses were dressed as flappers, the waiters looking like they just stepped out of one of New York's oldest restaurants,

Napoleon was seated at a back table, near an exit as any where any self-respecting mobster would be.

His drink order was taken, and there he sat just waiting. A few minutes dragged into an hour as he looked at his watch again and again.

Finally he stood, intending to leave and that was when Josef Oystracher appeared out of nowhere beside Solo's table.

"My deepest apologies Mr. Dio," he spoke in heavily accented English, "but I was delayed with club business." He looked at his watch as well. "It is rather late for a business meeting, perhaps tomorrow afternoon in my office would be better suited to your purposes, tak?"

The last word, Ukrainian for yes, was Napoleon's cue to switch to Russian.

"_Mozhet bytʹ, yeslizaderzhka , takiye kak eto bylo prinyato dome mesto yeshche v Malenʹkoy Italii, Vy ne mogli by otpustitʹ tak prosto. Da, zavtra afternnoon budet khorosho ... no ne opazdyvatʹ snova. Ponimayete_ perhaps. If a delay such as this had taken place back home in Little Italy, you might not be let off so easy. Yes, tomorrow afternnoon will be fine...but don't be late again._" He switched between English and Italian." Oh by the way, _La Dioguardi famiglia manda i suoi saluti. Capisce_ the Dioguardi family sends its greetings. Do you understand?"_

"_Da._..I mean yes I understand, ugh, _Sì, lo capisco." _The man answered nervously now, not sure where Dio's allegiance lay. The Italian mob, or the Russian one...or maybe he was playing with both sides. That was a frightening thought.

That did the trick, Napoleon smiled. Oystracher was now nervous on several levels not kowing who Johnny Dios ties were with. and for that reason, Solo suspected he could most likely manipulate the man well enough. Now if there were T.H.R.U.S.H. involved, that wouldn't be so easy as this had been. Hopefully the first meeting would be alone with just Oystracher.

.

April wandered the casino, trying her hands at blackjack as well as stud poker. She's lost some, won a few when she wandered over to the slot machines located beside a door marked private, and there she sat herself down to watch the comings and goings of men that didn't exactly look like employees of the club.

Just as she placed her hand on the lever of her slot machine, she felt the presence of someone behind her. A hand reached out, placed over hers.

"If you put the right action on it, you have a better chance of winning," It was that sleaze Howard Jay.

He deliberately pressed his body against her back, and what April felt was definitely not a weapon.

"How about you and I go get a couple of drinks...if you were my girl, I wouldn't dump you alone in a casino to fend for yourself." His voice was husky.

She pulled the lever on the slot machine, with the numbers spinning to a stop one at a time to rea and the lights on top of it flashed to indicate she was a winner.

She suddenly jabbed back with elbow, her charm bracelet jingling as she hit Howard just in the right spot, sending the man doubled over in pain.

"Oh my goodness, I'm sorry did I hit you? I was just reaching for my bag to put my winnings into. And as far as the drinks are concerned, thank you for the offer, but I don't think Johnny would take kindly to that. He has a bit of a temper you know." The last bit, she whispered.

April politely rose from her stool, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Have a nice night Mr. Jay...hmmm, maybe you might want to get some ice for that." She turned quickly, heading off to the cashier's office to turn in her winnings.


	8. Chapter 8

Illya Kuryakin arrived at the field office of the F.B.I. in downtown Las Vegas. They maintained a permanent presence there because of the suspected mafia involvement in so many of the casinos. They also kept an eye on the red-light districts where the legal brothels operated in both Reno and Las Vegas. Too many elected officials had been set up for blackmail after paying an indiscreet visit to these so-called 'ranches.'

He signed in at the reception desk after producing his U.N.C.L.E. identification, and half expected to be asked to surrender his side arm, and back up pistol, but surprisingly he was not.

"You're expected Mr. Kuryakin," he was told, as someone arrived to escort him.

He was taken to a small conference room where his liaisons with both the F.B.I and Treasury Department awaited him. Both men stood to greet him as he walked in and the door quietly closed behind him.

"Welcome Mr. Kury-aykin," a man with a drawl spoke first, murdering the pronunciation of the Russian's name in the process, and prompting Illya to make a correction,

"It is pronounced Kuryakin sir, and you are?"

"Oh sorry, I'm Mickey Judge, out of Texas. I'm stationed here in Vegas and oversee the shenanigans of the syndicate and this here fella is Ronnie Petrov of …

"Yes I know, of the United States Treasury," Illya finished the sentence for him. He felt uncomfortable in this meeting, knowing that behind the seemingly friendly façade, these men were most likely suspicious of him and surely resented the fact he, a Soviet, would be working with them, treading on American territory so to speak.

"So, you're the Russian," Petrov spoke up.

"Yes, is there a problem with that fact?" Illya replied, instantly annoyed with himself for going on the defensive. He did not need to alienate these men before they even got started.

"_Nyet,_ _kak na samom dele eto ne tak. Ya rasschityvayu na sotrudnichestvo s vami_no as a matter of fact there isn't. I've been looking forward to working with you._" Petrov spoke in impeccable Russian.

"_Petrov ... to yestʹ, vozmozhno, naiboleye rasprostranennym russkim imenem sushchestvuyet,_" Illya responded in but then translated for the benefit of Mickey Judge. "_Petrov...that is a possibly one of the most common Russian names in existence_." Illya smiled

"Why's that?" Mickey asked.

"Because it literally means 'whose are you?' Illya said blandly.

You're right. I did some research on that," Petrov laughed," seems Russian people received their last names years ago during the first population census in 1897. Till that time the last name was widespread in villages as nicknames. Then during the population census last names were given after father's names. So my family is named after Peter ... Petrov that is, as you said is an answer to the question "whose you are?" That's why it's the one of the most widespread of Russian surnames... along with _Ivanov, Tarasov, Titov, Fedoseev, Fedorov, Sidorov, Alekseev, Egorov, Demidov, Mihailov, Andreev, Alexandrov..._"

"Hmmm, you have done your research. Where did you learn your Russian? Your accent has a touch of Smolensk, yes?" Illya asked, now curious about the man.

"I learned from my grandparents, they were from Krasny. And you Mr. Kuryakin, I hear a slight mixture of Ukrainian and Russian in your accent... _Kyiv and Moskva_ perhaps?"

"Ah, very good." Illya smiled."There are few who ever pick up on that." He remained silent about the fact that he was born in Ukraine of Russian parentage, but was raised in an orphanage in Moscow.

The hostility Kuryakin first thought he perceived from Ronnie Petrov was gone now, and that made him feel much less of an interloper in the American's territory.

"Well enough chit-chat," Mickey interrupted, " Ya'll make yourselves comfortable so we can get down to brass tacks."

"Brass tacks?" Illya asked, just a little confused.

"_Etopogovorka, kotoraya oznachayet , kak pristupitʹ k delu_It's a saying that means getting down to business."_ Ronnie translated.

"_Spacibo, ya po-prezhnemu ispytyvayut trudnosti s amerikanskimi razgovornymi vyrazheniyami_Thank you. I still have difficulty with American colloquialisms._

"Okay you two, quit yer Russian yammering and pay attention." Mickey interrupted them for the second time.

Mickey Judge set out at least a dozen twenty, fifty and hundred-dollar bills across the table. "This is just some of the counterfeit money that's been cropping up at all the major casinos, they're high quality workmanship, but with one giveaway."

Mickey put a bill on an overhead projector, enlarging it for easier viewing. "Now just before you got here Illya, Ronnie and I discovered something on the reverse of the bills...if you hold 'em up to the light, there's a tiny mark in the shape of some sort of bird just behind the seal. Some counterfeiters like to leave a little trademark on their handy work, but I've never seen this one before."

Illya recognized the image instantly. "The bird is a Thrush," he interjected. "It is a symbol for a deadly organization of the same name whose goal is to take over the world... that is the reason I am here, as I am very familiar with them. Both your directors had their suspicions of this involvement and contacted my superior, Alexander Waverly."

Mickey took off his hat and scratched the top of his head. "I gotta tell you, the syndicate boys are really ticked about this counterfeit nonsense. I mean, there's always been some idiot dabbling in it out here, but this is on such a huge scale. I've never seen anything like it before. If the local mob ever they get their hands on these Thrush folks, there's going to be a whole lot of hurtin' going on that's for dang sure. We could end up with a little range war here."

"Now why would these Thrush people want to be spreading funny money in the gaming industry here in Nevada?" Ronnie asked. "That sort of operation doesn't exactly sound like a plan for world domination.

"I am unsure of their motivation of yet."Illya said."Thrush, in my experience, has come up with some bizarre schemes. Perhaps they are using this to fund some other operation that we do not know of." He paused for a moment, thinking of Napoleon's assignment. "I have a question, have these bills been found at any of the smaller casinos? Are there any that have had little or no trouble with counterfeit bills?"

"On the main drag where all the other affected casinos are, only two that we know of. .. Diamond Lily's but that just closed up and the other is Diamond Jim's Club. The other casinos across town from Freemont seem to be unaffected as of yet."

Illya nodded his head, confirming his suspicions about the casino Napoleon and April were investigating for THRUSH involvement. He said nothing about that, not wanting to compromise their mission. It was information these men did not need to know at the moment. "Then I suppose we should look further into this Diamond Jim's Club?"

"Well, then here is where it gets interesting, maybe for you, being Russian and all," Micky Judge smiled. "The fella that owns the club is from Russia, goes by the name of Oystacher."

"Actually Oystacher is a Ukrainian name, "Illya corrected him.

"Is it possible this guy has Russian mob ties?" Petrov asked.

"He's been linked to Meyer Lansky in New York...your neck of the woods Illya," Mickey answered.

"Lansky? Hmmm, there has been a growing number of Jewish-Russian run mob factions appearing in the Brooklyn area. Specifically in Brighton Beach. Depending upon where you are from, it is referred to as Little Russia, or Little Odessa as there are large immigrant populations from both Russia and Ukraine there. This makes sense, given Mr. Oystacher's Slavic ethnicity and his association with Meyer Lansky; he could be low-level Russian mob.

"Illya are you talking _Vory v Zakone_ here in Vegas?" Petrov asked.

"No, these are American grown mobsters that Oystacher has linked himself with. The Vor are still operating more in Russia than here, but it is only a matter of time before they try to set up territory in the States."

He now decided it was the proper time to tell them of Napoleon and April.

"Gentleman, my partner Napoleon Solo and Agent April Dancer are embedding themselves in the world of Diamond Jim's Club, even as we speak. They are on a separate assignment from my organization, investigating THRUSH muscling their way into the casino industry. I think at this point it is safe to say that our assignment and my partners are now running along a parallel line and will eventually have to intersect."

Judge and Petrov nodded in agreement.


	9. Chapter 9

Before April left to go gamble in the casino Napoleon had reached over to her, pulling her towards him and planting a rather sensual kiss on her lips. He could feel her stiffen at first, but was surprised when she relaxed and responded.

"Good luck at the tables baby, win big." He winked at her and smiled as he released her.

April stood in a daze for a moment as his kiss had taken her off guard, and oh what a kiss it was. It was no wonder Napoleon Solo had the reputation he did with the ladies. She took a deep breath and composed herself as she smiled. "I'll win big for you Johnny." She turned, following the schmendrick Howard to the gaming rooms.

.

A rather big and burly man, no doubt packing a pistol from what Napoleon could see, stepped up to escort Johnny Dio to his meeting.

"This way Mr. Dio." He gestured with a wave of his hand.

Napoleon was taken back through a service door, leading to an elevator. There they took it up to the top floor of the building, the same as the penthouse suite, but private and most likely the owners living quarters.

The elevator doors opened to a richly appointed lobby, decorated with Persian rugs, palm trees and pastoral oil paintings.

"One minute Mr. Dio," the escort said, " I have to frisk you before you go in."

"Not a problem, but I'm sure you've already guess I'm carrying, so let me just hand my gun over to you and then you can do your patdown."

He slowly reached beneath his dinner jacket, taking hold of his Walther with only his thumb and index finger, drawing it out slowly and handing it to the man.

"I do expect to get this back." Napoleon smiled at him.

"That depends on the boss." The man opened a pair of ornately carved oak doors, gesturing for Napoleon to enter.

"Ah Mr. Dio, welcome," a wiry haired blond spoke to him from across the lavishly decorated room. European style furnishings again, Persian carpets, plants and Grecian statuary...it reminded Napoleon of Harry Beldon's office... a bit over the top.

As the man approached, he gestured for Napoleon to sit in one of the high back leather chairs, offering him a snifter of brandy.

Once Oystracher seated himself, he got down to business immediately.

"An what may I ask brings a member of the Dioguardi family to my humble establishment?"

Napoleon took a casual sip of his drink before answering.

"I'm looking to make an investment and word is you have a nice little operation going on here, but might be in need of a backer, shall we say?"

"Hmm, interesting? I have nothing going on at the moment that would require such assistance." The Ukrainian smiled deceptively.

"Oh really?" Napoleon hedged his bet, going on what Illya had suggested." Your counterfeiting operation is small scale, I can help you build it and get a better return...maybe for another project in the works?"

"My my, you are good Mr. Dio."

"Call me Johnny."

"And your Uncle Don Dioguardi, is he also in on the offer of financing?"

"_Ni, i ya proshu vybachennya za te , shcho ya zbyrayusya skazaty . Miy̆ dyadʹko znay̆de vas i vashykh lyudey̆ pid nym . Vy ne La Cosa Nostra_No, and I do apologize for what I'm about to say. My Uncle finds you and your people beneath him. You are not La Cosa Nostra,_" he answered in Ukrainian, hoping that Illya's tutoring was now finally paying off.

"Me on the other hand...I see a business opportunity and have no problem working with people of like minds. So what if you're Ukrainian...I work with Russian Jews too; it doesn't matter as long as I turn a profit so I can build up a nest egg for my old age. My Uncle the Don isn't exactly doing that for me..."

Oystracher laughed out loud at the man's boldness."

"So what sort of amount did you have in mind...Johnny?"

"Half a mil to start, then when I see how things are progressing, at least another mil."

The Ukrainians eyes betrayed him when Napoleon threw out those numbers.

"_Vasha propozytsiya zvuchytʹ pryy̆nyatno , ale ya povynen budu konsulʹtuvatysya z moïmy kolehamy_Your proposition sounds acceptable, but I will have to consult with my associates._ _I propose a business meeting here tomorrow evening. It's then my associates will make some decisions. I will tell you this, you are correct in your assumption that there is another project in the works, but that is being spearheaded by my associates, so it is their decision to let you in or not."_

Napoleon finished his brandy, and rose, offering his hand to the man. "_Spasybi, i ya z neterpinnyam chekayu zavtrashnʹoho dnya_Thank you, and I look forward to tomorrow." He threw out what Ukrainian he knew._

"My pleasure," Oystracher smiled. " I must say your Ukrainian isn't half bad, though you do speak it with an American accent and I hear of touch of Russian as well.

_Yesli vy predpochitayete YA govoryu na russkom_or if you prefer I can speak Russian?_" Napoleon smiled at him.

"That won't be necessary,"Oystracher said, "Your Ukrainian is better than your Russian, but we can continue in English, that will be fine.

.

April wandered the casino, taking note of the exits and guarded doors. She played a few hands of blackjack again, lost a few then finally began to win. She quit while she was ahead a thousand dollars and decided to cash out; tipping the dealer before she left, placing several chips on the table, to the far side outside the wagering spot. Her daddy was a bit of a gambler in his day and taught his little girl other kinds of table manners...

She returned a second time with her chips to the teller's window handing them over.

"Small or large bills Miss?"

"Small will be fine," she smiled at him.

A manager stopped the teller as he reached into the drawer at his station. "No, regular for this one. She and her boyfriend are, umm, special guests of the boss."

'Yes sir." The teller reached into a different draw, counting out the cash in five, ten and twenty-dollar bills. April handed back a five as a tip for him.

"Thank you Miss," He nodded, placing the money in a jar at his station.

She looked up casually, taking note of cameras mounted in the ceiling, the same that were scattered out though the casino.

"My pleasure darling." She put the cash in the large leopard skin shoulder bag that she'd brought with her and as she turned, she spotted Howie nearby, staring at her.

"Excuse me, you said there was an indoor pool on the premises?"

"Yes gorgeous, I can show you if you like,' he oozed.

"That won't be necessary, just tell me where it is. I feel like going for a relaxing swim, gambling can be a bit tiring, don't you think? After getting the directions, April returned to the hotel room to fetch her bathing suit, as well as a pair of sandals, and while there alone she had a strange feeling, her instincts told her the room might now be bugged. Once Napoleon made his presence know, it made sense.

She was unaware of the fact that a pair of eyes had been watching her the entire time she'd been in the casino. Oystracher, after concluding his business with Johnny Dio, turned to his his private monitors that gave him views of the gaming areas as well as the corridors and select rooms.

The fiery red head had caught his attention, as he watched her lustfully. Maybe, he thought, if this deal with Johnny Dio went well, he might ask him to throw the red head in to sweeten the pot. After all what was another woman to a man from the Dioguardi family, it was not like she was his wife.

"What has your attention now? A man entered the office through a secret entrance behind one of the many bookcases."

"Perfect timing Mr. Ravel." Oystracher reached to turn off the monitor but his visitor stopped him.

"Yes she is quite lovely...planning to add her to your stable I presume?"

"Perhaps, that is if a certain proposition that I've been given works out...how much do you know of Johnny Dio of the DioGuardi family of New York?"

"Mafioso?"

"Yes."

"I know nothing of him, we in THRUSH avoid involvement with such ilk. The only reason we're working with you is because you're not associated to any extent with that kind and therefore we can expect no interference as we would from those Sicilians that run the other casinos. Why are you asking me?"

"I've had an interesting offer from Mr. Dio, looks like he has access to fairly large amounts of cash and is proposing to bankroll some if not both our operations."

Ravels face reddened with anger. "You fool, you told him!"

Oystracher shrank back defensively. "NO no, sir. He seemed to know about the counterfeiting operation, but the the other...he seemed to suspect something, that's all. I did nothing to confirm its existence."

.

Napoleon ducked out of sight behind an oversized palm tree in the main foyer, pulling his communicator to check on April.

"So are you having a good time, and where are you?" he whispered into it.

"Oh," April was startled as she was wearing an earpiece, having kept her own communicator open but hidden in her purse. "You know this is really a gorgeous suite if I do say so myself. Now once I head down to the pool for a relaxing swim, I'll be ready to crawl into that bed with my Johnny."

He realized she was telling him she couldn't talk as it stood to reason, he came to the same conclusion that she had... once he'd met with Oystracher, the penthouse suite had most likely been bugged.

"Now you're just teasing me," he whispered, "I'll meet you in the suite after your swim."

"Oh yeah that'll be yummy," she answered with a sultriness in her voice that she just knew would bother him. "I'll have a nice relaxing swim in my new teeny weeny polka dot bikini." She hugged herself.

"Knock it off...out."

April giggled, realizing she had just teased Solo and was sure his mind was racing to somewhere that included her and a bed. She grabbed her things, heading out to the elevator and down to the pool.


	10. Chapter 10

Illya Kuryakin sat alone, reading the dossier on Josef Oystracher when he snapped his fingers, coming up with an idea to get those parallel lines to intersect.

He pulled his communicator. "Open channel F."

Napoleon was just about to put away his cigarette case, still standing behind the palm tree, when its warble called him.

"Solo here."

"Napoleon, I think our assignments are about to connect. We have discovered that it is THRUSH at the heart of the counterfeiting operation as they have put their signature logo as a mark on the fake bills, the club at which you and April are staying may to be the source of the funny money, as it has had little problems with counterfeit bills."

"You're correct in your assumption chum. I've had a meeting with the club owner and he's all but confirmed the operation is here, but there's something else going on. What, I don't know yet. I'm to meet with the THRUSH representative tomorrow, as I've offered, or I should say Johnny Dio has offered to back their operation, for a good return."

"The owner of the club is I believe as a low level mobster, part of the Ukrainian mafia that has established itself in Brooklyn, he has ties to Meyer Lansky from what I understand." Illya confirmed.

"So Thrush is in bed with the mob, just not the Sicilian kind. La Cosa Nostra mustn't know about this yet, otherwise there would have already have been a bloodbath, if they do get wind of it, there'll definitely be some sort of vendetta and we don't want to be around when that happens."

"That is an understatement my friend. Once you have your meeting with Thrush contact me, as I have an idea to shake things up a bit. How is April?"

"She's doing fine, though she's not happy with the sleeping arrangements."

"Oh...OH? One bed I presume."

"Yes. I think accounting has a new dilemma to straighten out." Napoleon chuckled.

"Napoleon, you will behave yourself, yes?

"Moi, but of course." He could practically see the Russian's eyes rolling.

"Please watch out for her Napoleon. Kuryakin out."

Napoleon tucked his cigarette case into his jacket pocket, suddenly feeling odd that Illya seemed more concerned about April Dancer enough to voice it. That wasn't like the Russian.

.

April stepped out from the ladies dressing room wrapped in a plush white terrycloth robe provided by the hotel, she slipped from it, leaving it draped across a marble bench alongside the rather large heated pool. She was alone and could see steam rising from the water, that appeared azure blue from the tiles lining the pool beneath. The decor, like the rest of the hotel was lavish, with marble Corinthian columns surrounding the pool itself, the flooring was shining black marble.

She walked to the far end of the pool to the steps at the shallow end and walked down slowly, adjusting the top of her very small bikini, making sure plenty of cleavage was showing for the camera she'd noted was mounted in one corner of the ceiling.

There was simply no place to hide a weapon on her scantily clothed body, but she did have her seemingly innocent charm bracelet on her left wrist, and each one of those charms was an explosive or a smoke bomb.

Stepping down slowly into the water until it was at shoulder level; she began to swim effortlessly the full length, then back again. April stopped a while, holding onto the side of the wall while kicking gently with her legs.

"Hello there," a voice spoke behind her.

She turned with a girlish smile, reeking of innocence. "Hello there yourself."

The blond man dressed in bathing trunks knelt beside her. "I am Y̆osyp Oystracher, the owner of this casino.

"Pleased to meet you Mr. Oystracher, my name is Christina...um, Ivanova." She realized they hadn't chosen a surname for her cover, and given Oystracher was a Ukrainian name, she opted with a Slavic one just to catch his attention even more..

"Ivanova... is that Ukrainian or Russian?" He smiled, slipping down into the water beside her.

Here is where she figured Illya's tutorial would pay off or not. "_Moya semʹya Russkaya."_

"_A moskvich ya slyshu. Mne ochenʹ priyatno vstretitʹsya s vami, i yestʹ takaya prekrasnaya zhenshchina moyey milosti uchrezhdeniya_ah a Muscovite I hear. It is a pleasure to meet you, and to have such a lovely woman grace my establishment."_

"Why thank you Mr. Oystracher, I'm really enjoying myself so far.

"Call me Joey...if I may, Christina? Perhaps you would care to join me in the bar for drinks after your swim?"

"Oh how kind of you, but my boyfriend might not approve."

"Your, boyfriend? I see no boyfriend here, surely you're a big girl and can have an innocent drink without getting consent?"

April nodded, seeing this as an opportunity to possibly get information out of the man.

"You're right, he's probably off gambling anyway. Just give me a few moments to go change and I'll meet you downstairs at the bar in say...twenty minutes."

"Excellent decision, and I will await your arrival with anticipation." He took her hand, kissing it.

April swam to the steps, making sure Oystracher got the full view, her wet bathing suit clinging to her skin, leaving little to the imagination. She picked up her robe, putting it on slowly and gave him a little wave before leaving.

.

Napoleon waited patiently for his female partner to return, he'd changed into a pair of grey silk pajama and black silk robe and was sitting, sipping a glass of champagne that he'd ordered from room service. He'd already searched the room for the bugs, and confirmed their presence, but dared not disable them as that might give things away.

He jotted down a note, placing it in a book of poetry ready to hand to April as she arrived, and he looked up as he heard the door unlock, immediately placing his right hand on his Walther that lay on the desk.

"Now, now darling it's only me, no need to shoot," she spoke loudly.

"Hi baby doll, I missed you. Here, I found this book of poems for you." He handed it to but not before turning on a radio that was on the desk. He upped the volume just in case he'd missed any of the bugs.

"Now aren't you getting downright classy Johnny?" The note read: "Have found bugs we need to keep up appearances."

She looked up at him with a huff as he winked, knowing he was alluding to the sleeping arrangements.

"We can talk,'he said, "The radio is covering our voices but we just need to watch what we say from now on...can't play the radio all the time."

"Lovely." She let drop her robe as she headed toward the closet ."Look, I have a date for a drink with the owner, so don't wait up for me.:

"Yowza yowza, " Napoleon smiled as the cooler air was having it's effect upon her as she stood in front of him in her bikini.

"Stop," she actually blushed, grabbing her clothes and heading into the bathroom.

She took a quick shower, then changed into a more modest beige ensemble, a cashmere off the shoulder sweater and a black pencil skirt, but she made sure to wear a pair of black stiletto heels as a complement the look. The last thing she grabbed was her small perfume atomizer, tucking into her leopard purse.

She stepped out of the bathroom, looking at Napoleon. "Oh by the way," she reached into her bag, tossing a stack full of money on the desk. "Here's my winnings. When I went to cash out a second time, the teller was told to give me the 'regular,' saying that you and I were guests of the boss. So I assume this is real, as the counterfeit money seemed to be kept in a different tellers drawer. Though there might be some of it when I cashed out the first time, those are the large bills."

Napoleon took the stacked cash from her, flipping the bills with his thumb, taking a glance at them. "And what is is you expect to get out of this little rendezvous?" He,asked, lifting pulling out a bill from the stack and examining it.

"I have a meeting arranged for tomorrow with their Thrush liaison after having a nice chat with Oystracher. They definitely have a counterfeiting operation going on with Thrush, but he hinted at something else, something bigger."

"Well maybe I can get him to tell me, after I work my feminine wiles on him," she smiled as she headed to the door.

"April be careful."

"Always dearest, this is my territory now...you know, girl things."

Napoleon sighed, wishing she'd work some of her feminine wiles on him...


	11. Chapter 11

Mickey Judge finished making his preliminary report to his superiors and went in search of Illya. They'd told him to keep an eye on the Russian, but he found the idea preposterous.

Kuryakin was an agent for a prestigious international law enforcement agency that had helped the American government on several occasions and besides there was nothing of a sensitive nature kept at the field office.

Mickey ignored the order. He couldn't see what all the fuss was as Illya had access to all kinds of information through U.N.C.L.E. so the idea of him wanting anything from here was just ridiculous.

He finally found the agent walking quickly towards his quarters, loaded down with what seemed like flotsam and jetsam in his arms.

"What are you up to pardner?" Mickey asked as he watched Illya juggle his supplies.

"I have a plan to infiltrate Diamond Jim's and assist my partner while at the same time complete my own assignment."

"Well here, let me help you with that stuff."

"Thank you, that would be appreciated," Illya said.

Mickey grabbed a red and black case, walking with the Russian to his door.

Illya had found himself a makeup kit as well as a set of inks and brushes and was preparing to sequester himself in his quarters at the field office of the F.B.I. to begin his plan.

"So you won't tell me what ya'll are up to?"

"You will see Mickey as it will take me a bit to complete my preparations. I must be left undisturbed as I need to maintain a steady hand." Illya said, eyeing the box of inks that he had tucked under his arm.

"Is there anything else I can do to help?" Mickey asked. "Right now I feel right useless."

Illya paused for a second. "Yes, there is a favor you can do for me. I need a black leather suit jacket, preferably one of better quality. He eyed Mickey's silver-tipped snakeskin cowboy boots, thinking. "Hmmm, what size shoe do you wear?" The Russian smiled.

Mickey looked down at this boots, then at Illya's feet. "I reckon pretty much the same size you wear."

"Good, then if I may borrow your boots?"

"Hey whatever tickles your trigger." He immediately pulled them off and handed them to the agent. "Good thing I have a pair of loafers in my office," Mickey chuckled.

"I will also need some silver rings, heavy and gaudy please..." He gave Mickey his finger sizes.

"Okay pard, I'll get right on finding what you need, though I wish you'd tell me what you're up to?"

"In due time, my friend, in due time." Illya smiled, closing the door.

Several hours later he called both Mickey and Ronnie into his room, standing bare-chested, showing off what looked like a series of tattoos on his hands and torso. One specifically stood out, a small portrait of Lenin on Illya's left breast, on his right was a dimensional eight-pointed star. On his stomach was the image of a spider climbing up its web.

He held out his hands, showing the letters "ОМУТ" on the back of his right, indicating _one from whom it is difficult to get away___ot menya uiti trudno, _in other words, a hit man. A circle with a dot inside on Illya's ring finger indicated he was an orphan... _krugliy sirota_, or the saying "_Trust only yourself",_ _nadeisya tolko na sebya_. This was for him, not far from the reality of his life.

"I know those letters,"Ronnie said, looking at Illya's left hand," they're part of the Vory tattoos. "МИР" means one who's murdered..._menya ispravit rasstrel_."

"Correct," Illya smiled, pointing to the ink on his belly. "The spider moving upwards means the wearer is still an active criminal." He pointed to the star. "This means a membership in the 'thieves in law... the Vory v Zakone. And the portrait of Lenin is a symbol of Vor as he was the leader of the October Revolution - **V**ozhd**O**ktiabrskoy **R**evolucii - Vor."

"So you're going to impersonate a member of the the Russian mob?" Ronnie asked."That's a little dangerous, if you run into a true member, they don't take kindly to someone wearing their tattoos who isn't one of them."

"Da,"Illya smiled. "As will you, be impersonating one that is, so could you please remove your shirt. I need to give you markings as well..."

"Pretty dangerous business as the Vor like to _kill _anyone who pretends to be one of them," Petrov said.

"You do not wish to take part?"

"Oh no, you can count me in Kuryakin," he smiled. Ronnie removed his shirt without a word, feeling Illya knew what he was doing. He liked the man, and trusted him, though he knew there were many in the U.S. intelligence services that did not.

"Give me some good ones, like a bull," Ronnie smiled.

"It will help that you are familiar with the Vor markings," Illya acknowledged as he dipped a fine paintbrush in an inkwell. His hand was steady as he began to mark dots to help him outline the fraudulent tattoos. It also helped that many of the Vor tattoos were crude, so these would be passable.

When Illya was done with the ink work, Ronnie not only sported the eight pointed star, but the portrait of a bull on his chest, indicating cruelty and rage. On both his wrists were the quincunx, a geometric pattern consisting of five points arranged in a cross, that is five coplanar points, four of them forming a rectangle and a fifth at its center. When worn on the wrist they indicated one who had done extensive time in prison, from the saying "the four walls and I__chetyre vyshky i ya_."

Across the back of his right hand was the word the word "CEBEP," meaning _North server,_ for one who had done time done in a Northern prison such as Siberia, or Magadan, though Vor tattoos were not necessarily a sign of imprisonment, but more of a way of life.

Illya dressed himself in his black pants, white shirt without a tie, and the silver tipped cowboy boots, he slicked back his hair with a little Brylcreem. After putting on the large silver rings, he lastly slipped into the leather jacket and put on a pair of sunglasses. He produced a cigarette and hung it from the corner of his mouth.

Ronnie wore a similar outfit with a brown leather jacket and boots He sported a heavy silver chain around his neck and a black tee-shirt. He stuck a cigarette above one of his ears.

"Well?" Ronnie did a little turn.

"Danged if you two don't look like sleazy criminal types." Mickey blurted out.

"That is the plan," Illya smiled.

"A little more details, pard, would be better?" Mickey asked.

"Once my partner has given the signal, Ronnie and I will appear as representatives of the _Vory v Zakone_, there to scare the hell out of Oystracher. If he thinks the Russian mafia are moving in on his operation, he will close up shop and cut his ties with Thrush as he will fear the Vor more than he will our feathered friends. You, Mickey, can pick him up at that point, as I am sure he will most likely take the plates for the counterfeit bills with him when he makes a run for it. At least I hope he will."

"We'll be ready for him either way." Mickey smiled, wringing his hands together in anticipation.


	12. Chapter 12

April Dancer took the elevator downstairs, meeting Joey Oystracher in the lobby, there he escorted her to the "The Setting Sun" bar in the rear of the casino. The entrance to it looked like one was walking into a secluded Japanese garden. Inside it was dimly lit, with paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling, waitresses dressed as Geishas padded around silently. There was music playing softly in the background, a theme she recognized from a Brando movie called. "Teahouse of the August Moon," at least that's what April thought it was. This was the sort of place where people could go not be seen, as there were private booths with Japanese style shoji doors that one could slide closed to hide those within from view. The decor was a rather bizarre contrast to the rest of the hotel.

"My, isn't this a cozy little place," she smiled as she slipped onto the embroidered bench seat of the booth.

"It is indeed," Joey replied. He scooched in beside her, raising his right hand and snapping fingers. Instantly a waitress dressed in a red silk kimono, geisha style makeup and wig arrived at the table, bowing to them.

"We will have a bottle of the Taittinger Blanc de Blanc Champagne that just came in. I think you will find it most enjoyable." He turned his attention back to April.

"Champagne, darling. Now how did you know I just adore it?" April looked at him suspiciously.

"A lucky guess I suppose," he lied. "You do strike me as the kind of girl who _would_ adore such a thing."

She smiled, but realized that somehow the man must have been, not surprisingly, watching she and Napoleon at dinner. There were cameras in the casino and other places, so why not in the dining area. There she recalled she said loudly that she 'adored' champagne as part of her cover. In reality, she tried to avoid it as it made her a little tipsy. Her preferences leaned more towards wine and the occasional beer.

The champagne arrived and Joey poured for both of them, instructing the waitress to close the doors after her.

"So tell me Christina, how does a girl such as yourself end up with the likes of a man like Johnny Dio?"

"Well aren't you the direct one," she replied after unavoidably having to take a sip of her drink. "Johnny's a great guy, not to mention a classy dresser if I say so myself."

Oystracher shook his head solemnly. "He feigns sophistication, yet under the fancy clothes he is nothing but a mobster...you do know that is what he is do you not?"

"My Johnny a mobster, really now. I think you must be mistaken. He's a very kind and generous man and he takes good care of me."

"Until he tires of you, and men like him do tire of women after a while."

"Do you really think so?" She changed her tactics now, letting the man think he was getting to her.

"_Isnuye nemaye sumniviv v moïy̆ holovi_there is no doubt in my mind. You see he is Italian, and they only honor their wives as part of their code. You are not his wife, and as a girlfriend are dispensable. Has he ever threatened to get rid of you?"_

"Well, when we've had arguments...do you mean, 'get rid of me' as in kill me?"

"There is always that possibility, though I doubt he would do it himself. He would most likely have an underling do it for him."

April downed a mouthful of champagne, pretending to act nervousness and pushed her empty glass towards Oystracher to be refilled. He gladly obliged her.

"What do I do?" She acted bewildered when in fact she was bemused at Oystracher's attempt to be a smooth operator.

"I am in the middle of negotiations with Johnny Dio, and if I play my cards right, I will be coming into a lot of money. My current partners are working on a project that needs a great deal of funding...now if all goes through with Dio, you would be most welcome to stay here as my guest for however long as it pleases you. I would make sure a woman such as yourself is well taken care of, and lives a lifestyle befitting her class."

"You'd do that for me? You don't even know me." April protested mildly.

"Oh but I'd like to," he smiled, running his index finger along her arm.

"What sort of project is this?" She asked quietly.

"Diamonds my dear, my associates are buying up diamonds to help finance the building of some sort of super machine, something to do with the weather, that is as much as I can tell you. And please do not bring it up again. I think my partners would not be happy that I told you."

"Oh, "April said innocently."I promise, nothing will be said. I'm feeling a little overwhelmed. I have to think about all this if you don't mind. If Johnny is as dangerous as you say then I can't do anything to arouse his suspicions." She rose slowly from the table.

"Certainly dear Christina. _Koly ya zmozhu pobachyty tebe znovu_when may I see you again?"_

"I'm not sure, as I said, I don't want to arouse Johnny's suspicions. I suppose after you close your business dealings then it would be safer. Maybe I could tell him I have to visit a sick friend in Reno or something like that, and that'll allow me to get away from him. What do you think?"

"That sounds like an excellent idea, my dear." Oystracher took her hand, and kissed it. He watched as she walked from the bar, his lust for her growing even more now that he knew she was closer to becoming his.

April took the elevator to the penthouse, unlocking the door with an unsteady hand from the champagne and finding Napoleon still sitting on the sofa but seemingly asleep.

She clicked her tongue, remembering she'd told him not to wait up for her and went into the bathroom, changing into her negligée and retrieving a blanket to cover him up with.

As she draped it across him, he startled her. "Did you think I was really asleep?" She was leaning over him, with the flimsy garment she was wearing rather revealing and Napoleon couldn't help but take in the view.

"Oh. Yes I suppose that was silly on my part." She straightened up, grasping the blanket in front of her.

"Mmm, yes it was." He stood up, pulling her into his arms and kissed her passionately, whispering in her ear for her to go along with it, reminding her of the bugs.

Surprisingly she returned his kiss with more enthusiasm than he expected, and that's what started it...

April found herself attracted to Napoleon Solo, and going against her own better judgement, she let her guard down, the champagne didn't help matters. Her apprehensions about him fell to the wayside as his marvelous kisses easily seduced her.

Napoleon thought for a second, recalling April's warnings to him, but her lips said otherwise and supposed she, like so many other women, had fallen prey to his charms. He hesitated, wondering if he dare...

Throwing caution to the wind, he scooped her up in his arms, taking her into the bedroom. In the darkness, their lips met again, but this time their hands roamed, further igniting their passion

"I thought I was supposed to sleep on the floor," he whispered as he turned some soft music on the radio, and proceeded to remove her bed clothes.

"I've changed my mind. Mmmm, must be all the champagne I drank with Oystracher."

"Remind me to get more in the morning," he said as he watched her lay back on the bed, her body inviting him to her.

They remained together side by side in the bed when their nocturnal passions were finished, saying nothing for a few minutes.

"What have we done?" April whispered. "This wasn't supposed to happen, I'm not a loose woman."

"What happened was something beautiful and natural," he leaned on his elbow, facing her. " We both enjoyed ourselves and there's nothing wrong with that. There's no strings attached, if that's what you're worrying about. We're two consenting adults that just had wonderful sex."

"Yes it was wonderful wasn't it," she let out a giggle." Hmmm, can we 'consent' again?"

"More than happy to oblige," he leaned over, kissing her and exploring her mouth with his tongue.

After their second round of lovemaking was over, they fell asleep safe in each others arms, even though their weapons were tucked beneath their pillows...


	13. Chapter 13

The night was interrupted only by the amorous nature of Napoleon Solo, as he woke April again to make love to her. She obliged him quite willingly.

"So what was it I heard you said, 'your momma didn't raise no trollop and that you didn't sleep around." He asked her as they lay together, seeing that it was around three in the morning.

She laughed softly, I did say that didn't I? Mmmm, I think I'll have to have a talk with that partner of mine. He needs to keep what I say to himself."

"Mark's a good guy, but he does get a little chatty from time to time." Napoleon whispered.

They whispered still knowing their adversaries at least had the good taste not to bug the sleeping quarters. Napoleon and she had both checked for any listening devices as well as cameras.

April yawned, stretching her arms above her head. "Napoleon, I was speaking the truth to him when I said I didn't sleep around, though I'm sure you could tell that I wasn't a virgin. I am very choosy about who I go to bed with."

"I'm honored," he smiled, taking her hand and kissing it. "Enough talk now, and lovemaking. We need to some sleep April...April?"

He realized she'd already fallen asleep. The thought passed his mind that April had a few character traits of the Russian...

.

Napoleon rose first in the morning, showering, shaving and dressing himself. Feeling quite refreshed, he ordered room service as April slipped wordlessly from the bed, wrapping herself in a sheet as she retreated to the bathroom.

He didn't regret what had happened last night, and hoped she wouldn't either, but he knew sometimes a woman would feel that way and he prepared himself, just in case.

April finally emerged from the bath dressed in a casual ensemble, looking beautiful and fresh as a daisy.

"Breakfast is here, baby doll," he called out, resuming his Johnny Dio persona. He turned on the radio, allowing them to speak freely again with the song, 'Blame it on the Bossa Nova" masking their conversation.

"Mmm, looks good and I'm famished," she said, not making eye contact but eyeing the eggs Benedict, sausage, toast and most importantly, mimosas... a little hair of the dog she supposed.

Napoleon poured the champagne and orange juice libation for both of them.

They ate in silence until he finally spoke up. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"Huh? Oh, last night. I'd rather not discuss it if you don't mind, but rest assured...it was special. Need I say more?" She smiled.

"Yes it was. I just wanted to make sure you were..."

"Napoleon darling, I'm fine, if that's what you're concerned about."

"I was, just a little."

"Just a little. Ha! You men are all alike," she teased him. "Seriously, there's no problem, now let me fill you in on my little visit with Joey."

"Joey?"

"Oystracher. Yesssss, seems his unnamed backer, that we're pretty sure is THRUSH, is buying up diamonds with the cash they're switching out from the counterfeiting operation. They're using the diamonds to fund the building of some sort of device, but I wasn't able to find out any more than that. Joey closed up on that one."

"You got all this out of him? I must say, I'm impressed," he smiled, swallowing a forkful of eggs.

"It seems that Mr. Oystracher has the hots for me, and is looking to take me off your hands...for my own protection that is. He's painted you as potentially doing me physical harm and he's offered to take care of me. So his lust and the champagne seemed to loosen his lips just a bit.'

"That sounds too good to be true. Be careful April. He may have something else in mind for you. These people have their fingers in a lot of pots...prostitution and drugs among them. I don't think it's a good idea for you to be alone with him again."

"You don't think I can take care of myself?" She challenged.

"It's not that..."

"Hmm, being a little chauvinistic Napoleon dear?"

"Maybe just a bit," he smiled.

"Thank you. I actually find that quite charming."

"April I may have a reputation as a womanizer, but I do respect women and would never want one harmed," he quipped.

"If it makes you feel better, I did tell him I needed a little time to think and come up with a plan to keep you from becoming suspicious. I suggested that I would tell you, when your business dealing with him were concluded, that I needed to go see a sick friend in Reno."

"And he fell for that?"

"Hook, line and sinker.'

"April, I think you're the one teaching this old dog some new tricks, " he winked at her.

He pulled out his communicator. "Channel F."

The reply came immediately. "Kuryakin here, how goes it Napoleon."

"We've discovered Thrush is using the monies switched out from the counterfeiting operation to buy diamonds. And using the diamonds to fund the building of some sort of device, but what that is we have no clue as of yet. Are you ready to go?"

"Just give me the signal and I will be there."

"Once we move Oystracher out of the way, I can deal with THRUSH directly. My offer to finance their operation will be a substantial one, and and I'm sure that will pique their interest. We have a false diamond trading company set up through headquarters as I recall...that may come in handy. Do me a favor and contact headquarters and set that up for me, tell them to expect a call from Johnny Dio later today."

"I will do that immediately and will await your signal. How is April faring?"

"Lovely...I mean fine, she's mmmm...we'll talk about that another time," he whispered, not wanting her to overhear.

Illya surprised himself, feeling his heart sink just a little when he realized what his partner was alluding to. "I understand..."

Napoleon could hear the change of tone in the Russian's voice, but said nothing. Maybe it was a stupid move after all to have slept with April. The way Illya sounded convinced him now his partner was interested in her.

"Damn," he cursed in low mumble. Illya's feelings were no doubt bruised, but he'd get over it.


	14. Chapter 14

The Thrush representative overseeing the operation poured himself a brandy as he sat in Joseph Oystracher's office, preparing for this so-called meeting. He wasn't pleased it had been arranged and feared the lust the Ukrainian had for the redhead had made him lose his focus and clouded his senses.

He was uneasy about the situation, worrying that a man like this Johnny Dio hand gotten wind of what was going on with the counterfeiting operation. If he, a low level thug from 'la famigila', was able to discern their goings on, then it would be guaranteed the local mafioso families would eventually discover the plot. No doubt the Feds would not be far behind, that is if anything was left after the local mob was finished. He envisioned a blood bath, and with that, time was working against them. He wondered if Dio knew of the diamond buying and the ultimate goal of their little operation...

Ravel swallowed the rest of his brandy, making a decision to tell this Johnny Dio there was nothing to invest in, and that he was mistaken. Once these families got their fingers in the pot; there would be no dealing with them. They would want more of a say, a higher percentage of return...it was just not worth it. If Dio knew too much, then it would necessitate getting rid of the man.

Perhaps it was time to simply close up shop, and get rid of Oystracher as well. Killing both of them would be simple; just make it look like a hit of some sort. Oystracher being knocked off by Dio, and Johnny Dio being killed off by Oystracher's people.

THRUSH could keep the club going for a few more weeks, and reap all the rewards. End of story. Central would be impressed with this one, as would his sister Gervaise.

He was always standing in his older sisters shadow and now this plan would allow him to step into the limelight for once and show his superiors what he was capable of.

The secret door to the office opened and Oystracher emerged, carrying a large red leather journal with his nose buried in it.

"I have looked over the books quite carefully..." he announced as he entered his office.

"The _real _books?" Ravel asked point-blank.

"Of course the real ones you foo..." he bit his tongue before finishing that thought. "By my calculations we need two million more to complete the project. If we continue with our current operation with the way it is, it will take several months to reach that goal. Johnny Dio has offered as much as a million and a half. If we let him in on the real operation, I'm sure he won't hesitate coming up with the extra half a mi. We won't need to continue the..."

"We'll see, " Ravel humored him. " Just keep your mouth shut for now and let me do the talking. My research tells me this Dio is the real deal, but I still have my suspicions and I'm wondering where a low life-like him has come up with that much scratch."

Ravel seated himself in a high back chair, located near the bookcase entrance. He had no idea how this meeting would go, and made sure he had a clean escape route if necessary.

The office door opened slowly and in sauntered Johnny Dio with his gorgeous redhead on his arm. He was dressed in a very expensive suit, no tie, but sported a pair of sunglasses.

His companion was dressed very casually in a pair of tight black capri pants with a very clinging grey mohair bow neck sweater, and a red kerchief tied around her throat. Her high spike heels made her legs look even longer, and quite sexy.

"Excuse me but your girlfriend has to leave, you understand." Ravel said.

"Fine. Baby you wait outside for me okay?"He planted a kiss on her cheek.

"Okay Johnny, whatever you say." She batted her lashes, looking very much the part of a hapless damsel.

"Here take these, go amuse yourself in the casino," Oystracher said handing her a handful of chips, one with a peculiar lettering on the edge."

Once the office doors were closed the introductions began."Mr. Dio, this is my associate Mr. Aristide Ravel."

"Shit," Napoleon thought, the brother of Gervaise Ravel. This wasn't good, if Gervais was in on this his cover would be blown instantly.

Napoleon nodded. "So you're the bigwig backer on this operation."

"Mr. Dio, my apologies, I think you've been misled, there is no so-called 'operation' that you refer to other than my money keeping this small club afloat. That, against the larger casinos has been quite a task, but we're holding our own."

"So you wouldn't want someone to step in with a substantial amount to invest in this here operation, or any other?"

"No, I'm sorry. Another 'partner' is unwarranted and would complicate matters at this time. Thank you for your offer though."

"I haven't even given you my offer, say upwards of two and a half million to start."

"Mr. Dio, I told you we are not interested at this time, perhaps at some later date we might do business...now if you please, we do have a busy schedule."

Joseph Oystrachers face became more pained until he could no longer contain himself. "But Aristide that's a lot of cash, we could use for the other oper..."

"Enough!" He backhanded the man into silence.

"Now good day Mr. Dio. Consider your stay here at Diamond Jim's on the house, but now it is time for you to leave."

.

April felt a little left out of the action, being banished to the casino but reminded herself that was how these things sometimes happened. She'd done her part getting the information that Napoleon had been unable to uncover, and that made her feel a little pleased with herself.

She tried her hand at the roulette table, winning a fair amount of money and still keeping a watchful eye around the casino.

The croupier took note of the special chip she'd made a bet with, the one Oyastracher had given April. He pressed a button on the side of the table.

"It would be nice to be able keep this and do a little clothes shopping," she sighed over her winnings, knowing that was impossible.

"Excuse me Miss?" A rather muscular casino employee touched her on the arm, "If you could go with me to the office. The management is aware that you have substantial winnings and seeing you are an unaccompanied woman in our casino, they would like to set up and account for you to deposit your winnings...for your own protection. There's a lot of men who would love to prey upon a lady such as yourself."

"A lady such as myself?" She repeated, wondering why she always came across like someone who couldn't take care of herself. "I'm actually staying here with my boyfriend, Johnny Dio, so I don't think I have to worry about anything."

"It was Mr. Dio himself who suggested to the management that you open an account with your winnings Miss. Now if you would follow me this way." He gestured with his arm.

"All right, if Johnny said so." She replied, but found it just a bit odd. How would Napoleon have known she'd won big...unless Oystracher told him.

As April entered the office at the back of the club, she felt a sharp prick in her neck before she passed out.


	15. Chapter 15

Napoleon was seen out of the office, and escorted to his hotel room and there his hand gun was returned to him. He was puzzled why Ravel didn't take the bait, in spite of the offer of two and a half million not being chump change, to say the least.

He didn't think he'd been recognized, otherwise his weapon wouldn't have been returned and he would have found himself in dire straights. He checked the clip just in case and found it intact.

The door to the penthouse suite opened silently for him and he called out, hoping April would be there. "Christina, baby doll where are you. Looks like we gotta hit the road."

There was no answer, and he assumed she was still in the casino. At least that's where he hoped she was.

Napoleon turned on the radio, and opened his communicator. "Channel F- Dancer." There was no response and that immediately had him worried. "Channel F-Kuryakin,"

"Kuryakin here."

"Illya the meeting with Oystracher was a bust. His backer is Aristede Ravel, of all people."

"Ah yes, Gervaise Ravel's brother, that could complicate matters."

"So far there's been no sign of Gervaise, lucky for me. We've been asked to leave the hotel but now to complicate matters, partner mine...I can't seem to find April. She's not answering her communicator."

There was silence at Illya's end.

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes I did. What happened?" There was more concern than usual coloring his voice.

"Ravel wouldn't let her sit in on the meeting and Oystracher gave her some chips and told her to head down to the casino. She said he was making moves on her last night, trying to convince her that I'd do her harm and she needed to get away from me."

"Perhaps he has made another move on her."

"I'm going to look for her in the casino, in the meantime I think you need to start your end of the plan."

"I will be at the Club shortly...Napoleon find her. Out."

Illya was definitely concerned about April, more than Napoleon had ever heard his partner be about a woman. They just might have to have a discussion, perhaps and agreement about her. It suddenly crossed Solo's mind that she really might not be all right. He swallowed hard on that thought.

.

Two rough-looking characters approached the front desk at Diamond Jim's Club, and the clerk looked them over without reacting. He'd seen their types before and they didn't faze him in the least.

"Can I help you gentlemen?"

"You get Josef Oystracher here for me," the blond one spoke in a heavy Slavic accent, perhaps Russian, the clerk thought.

"And who may I ask are you?" He looked down his nose at them.

Illya reached over the counter grabbing the man by his shirt, while Ronnie covered the Russians back.

"Tell him, representative of Mr. Aron is here to talk business." He released the man, giving him a show backwards.

.

It took only a few minutes for Howard Jay to come down to escort Illya and Ronnie to Oystracher's office.

The man was seated behind his large desk, trying to look confident as the two men came in.

"_Zdravstvuy̆te, menya zovut Y̆osyp Oyastracher , shcho ya mozhu zrobyty , shchob dopomohty vam panove_Hello, I am Joseph Oyastracher, what can I do to help you gentlemen."_

"_My znayemo , khto vy , ale vy znayete , khto my_We know who you are, but do you know who we are?" _Illya replied in Ukrainian.

"I have no idea..."

Oystrachers sentence went unfinished as Illya pulled open his shirt, allowing the tattoos of Lenin, the star and the spider in it's web to be seen. He raised his hands, showing the letters on them, Ronnie followed suit, revealing his tattoos as well.

Oystracher stuttered, recognizing the markings of the _Vory v Zakone_, and that struck fear into his heart. "What do you want of me?"

"Mr. Aron is seeing very lucrative business opportunity here... and for percentage we can make sure your operation continues to function profitably." Illya sneered at the man, speaking in a low voice.

"But I have partners...backers who are very powerful. I cannot afford to lose any of my profits and …"

Illya pulled out a pearl handled switchblade, playing with it for a moment. He pointed two fingers to his Adams apple, making a cutting sound and hinting at a Russian necktie.

"Oh God, no...please not that? "Oystracher whined, cringing behind his desk as Illya took a step closer to him. "I'll do whatever you ask, but please don't kill me?"

Ronnie watched in amazement as the subdued Russian transformed himself into this picture of a menacing thug, and was a little scared of him as well.

"That is better, you cut us in for fifty percent and we will make sure no harm comes to you or your business," Illya flashed a feral smile. "Down payment one hundred thousand tomorrow afternoon will seal deal."

He knew that Oystracher would not be able to come up with that kind of cash without alerting his Thrush partners and his only alternative would be to run.

"You have vodka?" Ronnie demanded.

Oystracher pulled a bottle of Stoli chilling in a small refrigerator, and nervously poured glasses for the two Vor. He handed them some hundred dollar chips, offering them amenities in hopes it would keep them happy and get them out of his sight. He knew he had to run, and needed to do it without being noticed by them or Aristede Ravel.

"_Ni, ni azartnykh ihor . U vas ye stabilʹnyy̆ ... suky tut_No, no gambling. You have stable...bitches here?" _Illya demanded, thinking that's what Oystracher might have had in mind for April.

"Yes, I do, upstairs. You want women, I can do that for you." Oystracher wrung his hands together as he had begun to sweat.

"We go now." Illya ordered him.

,

Aristede Ravel stood in his office, ripping a photograph from the fax, sent to him from Central. It was a standard identification headshot of the man called Johnny Dio, but that's not who he was...his real name was Napoleon Solo, the number one agent in U.N.C.L.E.

.

"Damnation," he cursed. He could not let Central get wind of Solo snooping around. It was best to get rid of him before more UNCLE agents began crawling out from the woodwork.

Ravel thought for a moment of the offer made by Solo, two and a half million and wondered if the agent actually had that much cash to make the deal look real. He was aware that a silver case of money had been locked in the hotel safe.

He smiled, thinking he would get rid of the agent and take the cash he brought with him as a little bonus, insurance if you will against a rainy day. The operation here would have to be shut down, since UNCLE was now snooping around. Still, no harm had been done, though insufficient funds had been collected to pay for the diamonds needed for the major operation.

"Curse these foreign dealers, only wanting diamonds for machinery parts...no cash isn't good enough." They insisted on only diamonds would do as they were untraceable. These bits were being bought all over the world, section by section to prevent any suspicions from arising. The pieces of the puzzle alone meant nothing, but put them together in the correct order and one could see the makings of simply a large commercial drill, yet in reality it wasn't. Aristede allowed himself to snicker at that thought. He opened the desk drawer, withdrawing a Luger pistol and caressed it in anticipation of using in on Napoleon Solo.

He pressed the button on his desk intercom. "Mr. Jay?"

"Yes sir?"

"Bring Mr. Dio to my office, tell him I have reconsidered his offer and would like to discuss the details with him." He heard a muffled sound in the background. "What is that Mr. Jay?"

"Nothing sir, just noise from the casino. I'll go get Dio right now."

Howard Jay looked down at the gagged redhead, stripped to her black lace bra and panties and tied helplessly to a bed in one of the small bedrooms on the sequestered floor where gentlemen could seek a little side entertainment.

April struggled in protest with the gag in her mouth, looking wide-eyed with fear as Howard reached down, fondling her breasts. "I'll be back to take care of you later," He stared at her with lust-filled eyes.

Once alone, she squirmed and wriggled, trying to loosen her bindings, but it was no use. She felt like an amateur, like the new kid who really couldn't handle herself after all.


	16. Chapter 16

They exited the elevator to an unmarked floor, leaving Illya surmising the building had nine floors instead of eight. The two agents followed Oyastracher as he walked across a lobby to a pair of doors that he unlocked.

He gestured for them to enter, but Illya being cautious told Oyastracher go first.

"_Posle togo_after you,_' he said in Ukrainian.

Oystracher nodded, understanding the Vor's cautiousness, he stepped in first, nodding to a large woman sitting behind a desk.

"Go ahead gentlemen, take your pick...as many as you want. Ivanna, the matron, will help you if you need anything." The man had no idea that Howard Jay had already taken April and brought her up to the stable for his personal use, not caring that his boss had his eye on the redhead.

"Da, now go away." Kuryakin ordered the man, sensing things were safe.

Illya eyed the woman called Ivanna as she ducked her head back behind the newspaper she held in two hands, pretending to read it.

Kuryaking cleared his throat and she looked up, and eyeing his tattoos, she immediately averted her eyes. "Go ahead, boss say take your pick," she spoke nervously, in a heavy Russian accent.

He looked over at the half-dozen or so women lounging in chairs and on a sofa, wearing things that left very little to the imagination, but April was not among them.

"You got redhead?" He turned to Ivanna.

Her eyes gave her away, darting to the door behind him, knowing Mr. Jay had put the redhead in there for his own amusement for later. Illya spun around, kicking the door open with his foot, and seeing April in her underthings tied to the bed,

He grabbed a robe laying on a nearby chair, handing it to her as soon as he cut her free of the ropes with his switch blade.

She pulled the gag from her mouth, gasping for breath as she rose from the bed, but lost her footing as fear had sapped her energy.

The Russian grabbed her in his arms, holding her steady."Are you all right?"

"I am now." she smiled as she leaned into him, kissing him on the lips.

She was surprised as she felt his tense muscles relax when he responded to her lips. That's not what she intended as Illya wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

When he released her, he apologized. "I am sorry, I should not have let that happen, but...but I was worried about you."

"Wow if that's how you Russians show you're worried, I can just imagine what you do when you make love to a woman."

Illya blushed, but then found his voice. "I would like to show you some day," he whispered, nuzzling his nose to her ear.

The two of them joined once more in a passionate embrace, but stopped themselves as Ronnie poked his nose in the room. "Hey, now's not the time you two," he called out, having just finished tying up Ivanna after a bit of a struggle in which he had to keep her from sitting on him.

"Agreed, " Illya cleared his throat. "We must find Napoleon and settle this affair with THRUSH once and for all. Come." Illya took April by the hand, leading her out into the hall where the American waited impatiently.

"Ronnie, this is my fellow agent April Dancer. April this is Ronnie Petrov of the U.S Treasury Department.

"Nice to meet you but now that the pleasantries are out-of-the-way, can we get out of here? I'm feeling a little chilly." Illya offered her his leather jacket, and she slipped into it, feeling the warmth from his body in it.

He called out to the other women at the end of the hall. "If you want to get out of this place, now is the time. If you have any robes or such, I suggest you grab them and run." He repeated his words in Russian and Ukrainian.

The girls hurried behind the three agents, not caring about their state of undress as they dashed to their freedom.

As the elevator door opened to the lobby, they ran, heading for the main exit of the club. One of the girls called out her thanks in Ukrainian to Illya before disappearing into the neon lit night on Freemont Street.

"_Spasybi vam _, Mister!"

.

Howard Jay walked up behind Napoleon, tapping him on the shoulder as he searched for April in the casino.

"Excuse me, but Mr. Ravel wants to see you immediately."

"Oh he does, he practically kicks me out of the club and now he expects me to drop what I'm doing and go to him just like some lackey... _Howie_. I'm busy looking for my girlfriend, do you know where she is by chance?"

"I believe she went to see a sick friend in Reno, now get moving." Napoleon felt a gun being pressed into his ribcage. " No funny moves Dio, you wouldn't want this to go off and hurt you, or maybe somebody else in the casino now would you?"

Napoleon looked around at the crowded tables, not willing to take the chance, and slowly raised his hands as Howard relieved him of his special.

"You can put your hands down, just don't make any sudden moves, now let's go." Howard gave him a nudge with his gun, pushing him towards a private elevator.

It opened directly to the door to Ravel's private office, and Napoleon was escorted inside.

The Thrushman looked up as he sat at his desk, keeping his right hand with his weapon hidden.

"Sit down won't you...Mr. Solo," Ravel cocked his head with a sly smile. He tossed two pairs of handcuffs to Jay . Catching them, he put them around the agents wrists, attaching them to the wooden arms of a chair in front of the desk.

"Who?" Napoleon bluffed.

"Come come. I just received this from Central confirming your identity as Napoleon Solo, chief enforcement agent for U.N.C.L.E. Don't play games with me." He held up the photo for the American to see.

"Fine, so you know who I am. I was leaving your club as you asked, what's the problem?"

"The problem is Mr. Solo that I suspect you and your organization have been snooping around and know too much. This is information I prefer not to get back to T.H.R.U.S.H. Central."

"I won't tell if you won't," Napoleon quipped.

Ravel backhanded him for his smart remark. "I said no games. Now tell me exactly what you know."

Napoleon saw no problem in that, seeing as how he was already in trouble, and no doubt April was as well. Thrush liked to brag and maybe if engaged Ravel in some sort of conversation about the operation, he'd tell the truth. And it would give Napoleon some precious minutes to figure a way out of his predicament. "Illya where are you when I need you?" He thought to himself.

"Well, maybe I'll tell you what I know if you tell me where my companion is and once she's out of harms way...then we can talk."

Ravel threw his head back laughing out loud. "That's it Mr. Solo, that's the best that you've got.

"Hey it was worth a shot, " he shrugged, yet his face became quite serious. "Where is April?"

"Ah that's her name. Central could find no record of a female agent in your Section II...so U.N.C.L.E. is finally keeping up with the times. Central has had women agents for years, we at least, see the usefulness of their feminine ways."

Ravel turned his attention to Jay. "Where is the woman?"

"Umm, she's up in the stable. Do you want me to get her?"

"Yes, she just might be of use to us in getting Mr. Solo to talk..."

"You wouldn't want to see your pretty friends face scarred for life would you Mr. Solo?"

Napoleon jerked at his handcuffs, trying to will himself free." You lay one finger on her and you're a dead man, I promise you that."

"You are hardly in a position to make threats. Now tell me what I want to know or I will have Mr. Jay carve her up with a knife."

At that moment Napoleon's communicator went off. Ravel pulled it from his jacket pocket, tossed it on the floor and crushed it beneath his heel. "We'll not have you talking to your friends now will we, or tracing where you are?"

.

Illya and Ronnie took April across the street to an awaiting F.B.I van, there they found her a pair of black overalls and boots, they were a little too big, but better than the flimsy robe she was wearing. Illya gave her his backup pistol, squeezing her hand just a little, and looking into her eyes. "You be careful April, and I expect to get this back."

"I'll deliver it personally," she smiled at him, "You be careful too."

The Federal agents readied themselves, setting up positions near the club entrance as Illya was convinced Joseph Oystracher would be appearing shortly.

His instincts were correct as they saw the man emerge, carrying a black briefcase and a larger metallic silver one in the other. It was the case that Napoleon had locked in the hotel safe.

Oystracher hailed a cab, but before it appeared he heard a voice behind him.

"_Zalyshayuchy tak skoro ? My mayemo spravu do kintsya_leaving so soon? We have business to finish."_ Illya spoke to him in Ukrainian.

Oystracher's face went pale. He dropped both cases, preparing to make a run for it and as he turned, a gun was pointing straight at his nose. "Hold it right there pardner, F.B.I." Mickey growled. "Now put your hands on top of your head and don't try anything funny,as I have an itchy trigger finger."

They opened both cases finding the counterfeiting plates in the briefcase and the bait money in the other.

"Will you lookie here," Mickey smiled, "We got us a haul."

"I have done nothing wrong. I did not know those things were in the cases...I was merely delivering them for someone... a Mr. Dio."

"Yeah right pardner. Now as I see it, you have two choices. One, plan on telling the truth to us, of two, we tell the other casino owners what you've been up to, and we let them have you. So what's it going to be?" Mickey smiled.

"I surrender," Oystracher said meekly.

Illya pulled his communicator. "Channel F-Solo." There was static, followed by a high-pitched squeal, and finally silence. He knew immediately his partner was in trouble. Kuryakin switched on the tracker in his cigarette case. The homing disc he had planted in Napoleon's tie bar was still active, and he only hoped his partner was still alive.

"Come April, Napoleon needs us."

"Wait for me," Ronnie called.

"Nyet, this is U.N.C.L.E. business, I cannot risk you being hurt. Your involvement in the assignment is over as the counterfeiting operation has been stopped."

"Like hell I'll step aside, you two need someone to watch your backs."

April gave Illya a wink and nodded at him.

"Fine, we go then to rescue my partner." His voice was filled with a seriousness she'd not heard before.


	17. Chapter 17

Howard Jay arrived at the stable, finding the door unlocked and Ivanna laying just inside on the floor, trussed up like a fatted calf. None of the girls were there and the redhead was gone as well, the door to the room where he left her was kicked in.

"What happened you worthless fat bitch?" He kicked Ivanna in the side.

"Russians came in, members of mob. Oystracher said it was okay for them to have their pick of the girls... the blond one, he asked for a redhead and found the one you brought up. He let her loose, along with the other girls while his friend did this to me. Now untie me!"

Howard spun on his heels, leaving Ivanna there screaming at the top of her lungs to be set free. He hurried down to Mr. Ravel's office, feeling nervous about telling him what had happened and hoped there would be no consequences.

Things were getting a bit hairy here, the counterfeiting, UNCLE spies, Russian mafia...maybe it was time to chalk up his losses and split, he thought. It wasn't like he was getting a piece of the action or anything extra for that matter. Maybe he'd help himself to the case of money in the safe that this guy Solo had brought with him and just leave town.

He entered Ravel's office in a rush, telling the man everything as if he were out of breath, trying to sound dramatic as he eye-balled Napoleon still handcuffed to the chair.

Aristede Ravel turned beet red with anger, storming out of the room and heading to the elevator, with the intention of heading to the Security office. He'd find that redhead somewhere in the club, no doubt.

"What about Solo Mr. Ravel?" Howie called, following the man mindlessly like a sheep going to slaughter.

"Leave him, he's not going anywhere...on second thought," Ravel said as he stepped into the private elevator, " Stand guard outside the door will you Mr. Jay." The doors closed, leaving Howard standing alone in the lobby.

As soon as they left the room, Napoleon maneuvered himself around in the chair, bringing his legs up to a crouching position on top of the seat. He used the power of his legs to launch himself, standing up, and cracked the wooden arms of the chair and freed himself, though his wrists with the cuffs still dangling from them hurt like hell as he hopped down to the floor.

Howard heard the crash, and opening the office door, he saw Napoleon standing free. He pulled his gun, taking a bead on the agents. "I'm gonna enjoy this," he snarled.

"Oh no you don't, _Howie_, " a woman's voice called from behind him. Before Jay could turn to fire his weapon, April nailed him with a bullet to the head.

"Nice shooting Miss Dancer." Napoleon smiled. "And thank you."

"My pleasure Mr. Solo." She grinned.

"Are you all right Napoleon?" Illya asked.

"I'm fine. And look at you with all your tattoos, nice job on short notice."

The Russian's white shirt was hanging open, unbuttoned to his waist. "Do you think so? I thought I could have done better if I had a little more time," Illya said, pulling his shirt open to give his partner a better look.

"Not bad if I say so myself. They're not permanent are they?"

"Of course not, they should disappear with some alcohol and a few good scrubbings." Illya began buttoning up.

"I bet that's going to hurt chum." Napoleon chuckled.

"Excuse me you two, visiting hours are now over." Ronnie called as he stepped into the office."Are they always like this?" He asked April.

"I hope not?" She snickered.

Solo rifled through the desk drawer until he found the keys to the handcuffs and removed the unwanted jewelry. He then removed his tie bar, finally noticing the thin homing disc on the back of it.

"So that's how you found me so fast, you sly Russian you."

"I told you I would always have your back." Illya nodded. "Napoleon this is Ronnie Petrov of the Treasury department."

"Pleased to meet you," Solo offered his hand to his fellow American. "And as you said visiting hours are over, so back to business, let's get this done." Napoleon's tone of voice changed completely as he took command. "We need to find Aristede Ravel and take care of this place. Ronnie, if you could be so kind as to pull a fire alarm in about ten minutes, while Illya, April and I go find our feathered friend.

Napoleon adjusted his tie bar, setting it on the desk as he set a timer on his wrist watch. "This room is going to go up in smoke in fifteen minutes, so let's get going. I heard Ravel say he was going to the Security office.

"That's on the second floor," April said, " I remember seeing a sign when someone boarded the elevator when I was escorted down to the casino."

They took off, using the stairwell instead of the elevator, arriving a little out of breath at the Security office. Napoleon took a quick peek in the window, verifying Ravel was there. The man was standing in front of multiple television monitors, obviously searching for April.

Solo looked down at her wrist, still seeing the charm bracelet there. "Got a smoke bomb on that thing?"

"Yep, it's the charm that looks like a pineapple."

"If you would be so kind to toss it in on the count of three," Illya asked.

"Why of course, darling."

"One-two-three." Illya quickly opened the door.

She pulled the piece from the bracelet and threw it in and the room was instantly filled with red smoke.

Napoleon stepped in, covering his nose and mouth with the crook of his left arm, and fired three shots, Illya and April followed suit. There were thuds as bodies hit the floor and the sounds of electronics sparking and shorting out.

As the smoke cleared, they found only one body; Ravel had disappeared, no doubt through a secret door. There was no time left to look for him as the fire alarm rang out, sending a shrill sound throughout the club and hotel. They watched for a minute on the remaining security monitors as the guests spilled down the stairwells and ran through the casino out to the sidewalk.

As they left the office April tossed another charm to the floor, this exploded in seconds.

"Very nice." Illya smiled.

They ran downstairs to the casino making their way to the cash office, and there they broke in finding stacks of the counterfeit bills. This time Napoleon took one of his cufflinks, and giving it a twist, he tossed it at the piles of money. It exploded, setting the bills on fire.

From there they made a hasty retreat, meeting up outside with Ronnie, and watched as the Las Vegas Fire Department arrived. The building, was apparently not up to code, and went up in flames like a tinderbox.

"I'd say that was a job well done, if I say so myself." Napoleon murmured, dusting off the sleeves of his suit jacket, and finding one of them torn. "Damn."

"_Chyort,_ another one my friend?" Illya smiled."Mr. Waverly might not approve another.

"Hey what did I say about cussing," April chided both of them.

"Sorry. It's just that the Old Man is going to have a fit if I try to claim another damaged suit," Napoleon agreed with his partner.

"You're going to be sorry, how about me? I just realized the mink coat went up in flames along with all those beautiful clothes. Now that's what I call a waste." April sighed.

.

They returned to New York, filed their reports to Alexander Waverly, though he acknowledged nothing about the damaged and lost clothing, but he did feel burning down the casino and hotel was a bit extreme.

"There is also the matter of this other scheme that THRUSH has in the works, that's what concerns me," Waverly huffed. "It's a pity you didn't manage to take Ravel, still your initial mission was accomplished. Next time though, Mr. Kuryakin, a little less enthusiasm with the explosives might me in order?"

"But..." Illya started to say, yet he stopped himself. He was used to taking the blame when it came to incendiaries, so what was the point of explaining it was not his doing, as in the past it usually was.

"In the meantime our intelligence Section will endeavor to come up with some answers to see what else THRUSH is up to. There is a worldwide alert to find Aristede Ravel. Until some information surfaces, we are dead in the water at the moment." Waverly seemed to drift off, pondering on that thought. He was not a patient man when it came to T.H.R.U.S.H. getting the better of U.N.C.L.E.

Nor was he happy about the fact that Joseph Oystracher was not cooperating with the F.B.I. as he first promised, and since he was not in .C.E. custody, there was little they could do about him at this point. Though it had been a joint operation, the Federal Bureau of Investigation was usually not forthcoming when it came to information sharing, nor the sharing of prisoners.

He looked at the report file, obviously not entirely content with results of the mission. He'd said all he had to about it, and dismissed his agents in a huff.

"Except you Mr. Solo, if you would be so kind as to remain a moment." Illya and April made a hasty but dignified retreat through the conference room doorway.

Napoleon stood in front of his superior, thinking he was in trouble for something and expected some sort of tongue-lashing at least, since the casino and Oystracher were his assignment, and not Illya's. The question that followed relieved his concerns...

"Your opinion of Miss Dancers performance in this affair Mr. Solo?"

"Oh, OH. Yes, Miss Dancer was very professional and clever and she thought quick on her feet. She managed to obtain vital information regarding the diamond dealing when I wasn't able to. Still, though, there are some disadvantages to being the fairer sex working in a dangerous man's world."

"So you don't like a woman being in the field?" Waverly struck a match, lighting his pipe.

"No it's not that sir, it just something that will take a little getting used to. April...I mean Miss Dancer proved that she could handle herself admirably, and got into no more difficulty than any other agent might have. I think she'll do fine."

"And her being paired with Mr. Slate, what do you think of that?"

"It's not my call sir."

"Dash it Mr. Solo, you're my CEA and your opinion is warranted, they're not only my operatives, but yours now as well."

Napoleon perked up at that statement. "I think she and Mark will make an excellent pairing. They're both very focused and innovative people and I think they'll work well together."

"I agree, thank you for your comments. Now dismissed young man. Get a little rest before your next assignment."

"Yes sir, "Napoleon smiled before exiting the conference room.

.

The following Saturday night Napoleon Solo arrived at April's apartment to surprise her and celebrate the success of her first mission with a gift of flowers and a bottle of champagne. The latter, of course, he hoped would lead to other things.

He rapped on the door several times, knowing she was there as he'd seen her shadow in the window outside from the sidewalk. She lived on the second floor in a better area, not far from headquarters.

"Who is it?" He heard her voice finally call.

"April, it's Napoleon. I come bearing gifts."

She looked through the peephole, verifying it was him before opening the door, and dressed in a silk robe with her beautiful red hair looking a bit disheveled.

She looked at the flowers and the bottle as well as the look in his eyes. "Oh Napoleon, darling. I'm sorry, but I have company."

He was taken off guard, and peeked over her shoulder, spotting a black turtleneck and a pair of black trousers tossed on the sofa, knowing exactly who they belonged to.

"My apologies," he smiled, not missing a beat. "Perhaps another time, he handed her the flowers and champagne anyway, trying to hide his disappointment.

"Perhaps, goodnight Napoleon and thanks for the thoughtfulness and the gifts. That was really sweet of you," she smiled, closing the door in his face.

"All's fair in love and war," he said to himself. "Damn!"

"I heard that Napoleon Solo, no cussing! " April called from behind the door.

He then heard his partner calli out, "_Da, eto khorosho,"_ and April giggling. He suspected it wasn't directed at him, and was most likely something Illya was doing to her, or perhaps she was doing to him.

Sigh...

.

To be continued...sequel coming.


End file.
